


Sherlock and John

by Lionessinthedark



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Death (but they are old), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Kilts, Light BDSM, M/M, Marriage, Mary is Not Nice, Nightmares, Pain, Post-Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Rimming, Scars, Serbia - Freeform, Sex, Sex in kilts, Sherlock's back, Sherlock's scarred back, Sherlock's scars, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Voyeurism, holmescest, whip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:46:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 42,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5065519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionessinthedark/pseuds/Lionessinthedark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It begins very dark, but is everything really like that? What is the dream? What is the truth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Now it is finished...and I'm not English, so I apologise beforehand for any mistakes.  
> And I do not own the characters....they belong to Arthur Conan Doyle....and BBC.

The tall pale man was shivering. Standing up he was tethered to a chain with metal manacles in front of the wall in the abandoned factory. His arms forced up over his head, but not so high that he would be hanging in them....he would only be doing that if he couldn’t stand on his feet. There was blood in his black curly hair from the blow that had made him unconscious and had made it possible for the other man in the room to shackle him and attach him to the chain.

Sherlock shivered....the manacles reminded him of those who had given him scars on his wrist...those from the cellar in Serbia.

“Stand still or it would be even worse for you” said a stern voice behind him. The other man...all dressed in black took a step closer to Sherlock and produced a knife: “Stand still or the knife will cut you.....and it makes no difference to me!”

Sherlock made an effort to stand still as the knife cut through the fabric of his jacket, his shirt and his trousers and pants....leaving him naked and with a few droplets of blood where the knife despite his effort to stand still never the less had broken his skin.

“I told you!” said the voice.

Now the knife was moved to Sherlock’s front and the tip of it was resting between Sherlock’s cock and his testicles: “Don’t move an inch...it you want to keep either your cock or your testicles” said the voice again as Sherlock’s shoes and socks were removed. 

Sherlock didn’t even dare to breathe.

Sherlock trembled and rested his head against his shackled arms. The floor was cold beneath his feet and he could feel every little stone from the dirty floor.

The man behind him couldn’t help but admire Sherlock’s body. With his clothes on he seemed almost sinew, but without the disguise of his tailored suits his body-type was revealed....athletic.... to some extend even very muscular. Not like a body-builder...more like a dancer or an acrobat. Pure strength....”Such a shame actually to ruin that” said the other man and he continued:  
“I’ve had enough of your whims, your insane behaviour and the way you always seem to be in my way....I’m finally feed up with all of you...I’ve made a list....of everything you have made that annoyed me, irritated me and drove me insane....and I’m going to punish you for every single one of them!! Do you understand!!”

“Yes, John” whispered Sherlock.

And that earned him the first lash from the whip.

Sherlock took a breath in through his nose and exhaled slowly.

“It is either “master” or “sir”! Is that understood?” shouted John Watson.

“Yes sir!” answered Sherlock. He didn’t know that John hated him that much...And that made it impossible for him to make any resistance....he couldn’t help thinking that he deserved it.

“And you will count every stroke I give you!”

“Yes, sir!”

And then John began to whip Sherlock’s back, his buttocks and his upper thighs.

Each time mentioning a thing from his list....and ordering Sherlock to count. Sherlock was a bit surprised that it after the first ten lashes didn’t hurt more....it was a sharp pain....every lash.....but it quickly turned into a dull throbbing.....and he obediently counted as John had ordered. At no 50 he had been swaying a bit....the pain....he had somehow got used to it but he could feel his body weakening.

“Ask permission to kneel, sir!”...Sherlock was afraid that he might faint any moment and dislocate his shoulders.

“Granted, you git...pathetic weak little slut, you are!” was the reply, but there was some machinery running and a clicking sound and Sherlock could feel the chain be slackened and he was now able to kneel with his arms bend at the elbows and resting against the wall. He could feel that blood was running down his back...and his buttocks and his thighs. He could easily imagine how his back looked like a bloody mess....but somehow he knew that it wasn’t over yet. He had had a glimpse of John’s list....and it was long!

“I...I fail to see the purpose of this, John....sir! I can understand why you want to punish me.....but this is going to kill me, sir! I’m sorry....but doesn’t it count that I have saved your life many times.... sir?”

As Sherlock wasn’t immediately “rewarded” with another lash he continued: “I allowed myself to be slandered to keep you safe.....I jumped of a roof to keep you...and Greg and Mrs. Hudson safe....I dismantled Moriarty’s network to keep you safe.....and I shot Magnussen to keep your Mary safe! Doesn’t it count at all? Sir?”

“Pathetic lies.....you did it all because of your own vanity....I wish you had never returned....I wish I’ve never met you....you have ruined my life!!!!! It is your fault that Mary and the baby died! Your bloody fault!!!” John was shouting now and with each sentence Sherlock received another whiplash.

Sherlock nearly didn’t feel them any more....only a small sting of pain and then just the dull throbbing. It was strange....he remembered the feelings of the whiplashes back in Serbia.....they were much harder and more painful. Had the blow to his head caused more damage than anticipated? Was his body shutting down? Endorphins would help ease the pain.....but it still felt...off.

After Sherlock had been kneeling John hadn’t insisted on his counting.....so Sherlock was just grunting now with every lash.....and swaying, eyes closed and as Sherlock mumbled something John stopped his lashing to hear what Sherlock said:“You are going to kill me if you continue with this, sir! You better be sure that it is want you want, sir!”

And despite Sherlock’s feeling of being floating....thank heaven for endorphins.....there was still some will left in him: “And you better be damned sure that you hide my dead body so Mycroft can’t find it or you’ll be a dead man, too!”

John started laughing......and Sherlock heard some footsteps together with the tap tap of an umbrella and then Mycroft’s voice: “Oh you pathetic little slut....threatening with your big brother....like in a school-yard. Pathetic!! I too have had enough of you, Sherlock....all your peculiarities....your addictions....your bad modes...You have never grown up! Have always been a spoiled child....and a burden to us all....Just you continue John. I’ll find a chair and enjoy the view....just like in Serbia!”

Sherlock bowed his head in shame.....When Mycroft said it....it must be the truth.....but Sherlock never thought that Mycroft too hated him that much!

Now there were other voices in the room.....Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Molly, Sally and Anderson.....and his parents......and they were all shouting at him....accusing him of all his flaws and failures.....his rudeness, his bragging....and every single one of them urged John to continue.

John did throw the whip away.....”No....it is taking far too much time....I’ll finish him with the knife”

And he came closer to the almost unconscious Sherlock, grappled Sherlock’s hair and moved the knife close to Sherlock’s throat....


	2. Baker Street

“No..” shouted Sherlock....still some will to survival left in him...

.....and he woke up...in his own bed in Baker Street. Sweating and panting. But the nightmare sort of stayed with him.....that everybody hated him. That sadness lingered....and as John barged into his bedroom....and turned on the night-lamp.....worried because he had heard Sherlock scream... he was met with Sherlock’s wild eyes, filled with fear and almost no recognition of John. The dream still so vivid that Sherlock actually for the first time in his life feared John.

John, who had had his fair share of nightmares and who had experienced Sherlock’s share too, as Sherlock returned from Europe...and Serbia...and the rest of the world... after Sherlock had jumped off that blasted roof of Bart’s....did indeed know not to touch Sherlock. Just as Sherlock had known not to touch John when he was hardly awake from his version of dreaming hell, so John was in the beginning just standing there...and used his voice to soothe....and ground....Sherlock: “Hey; Sherlock. It’s me.... John. You are in London...you are safe. In Baker Street!”

But this time it didn’t work! Sherlock’s eyes were still wild...and filled with fear. Since when had Sherlock looked at John with fear in his eyes? Now John was deeply worried!

He decided that he would risk sitting down on the bed next to Sherlock, who was lying on his back. John took Sherlock’s hand carefully....ready to let it go if Sherlock took his hand back. Right there in that moment Sherlock reminded John so much of a slightly a bit too much inbreed thoroughbred horse...strong muscles rippling under velvet-like skin and eyes and mane wild.

But Sherlock didn’t take his hand back....just shuddered and gave a sigh...almost a sob. His eyes were still worried...but not as bad as before.

“Shhhh” said John, caressing Sherlock’ hand: “You are safe....in London. I’m here....easy now!”

Sherlock just looked at John....his eyes so sad and then he whispered: “Am I really that awful, John?”

John frowned: “What are you talking about?”....and he didn’t even notice that he still had Sherlock’s hand in his....and apparently Sherlock didn’t notice either.

Sherlock sighed and turned his head away: “Nothing...it was just a dream...a terrible nightmare!”

John caught a glimpse of tears in Sherlock’s eyes.....and thought he understood. The only other time Sherlock had tears in his eyes recently was when he rather reluctantly had told John about other nightmares....where John had been killed....blown to pieces in that swimming pool so many years ago, being shot by snipers, being abducted and killed.....each time it had played out in nightmares for Sherlock.

John tried to smile to lighten the mood: “Who killed me this time?”

Sherlock turned his head towards John...and removed his hand: “It wasn’t you, John. Not this time. It was me!”

Sherlock sighed and turned his head away again....but to John’s joy he grappled for John’s hand again: “I was killed.....and......and don’t think that I would ever believe...now....being more awake....that you would do such a thing, but.....”

And suddenly John understood: “ _I _killed...you?!”__

__Sherlock turned his head again: “Yes.....you had whipped me...you had a list of all the things I had done wrong. You even accused me of being the cause of Mary’s death....and the baby’s.....and you gave me a whiplash for every fault.....and there were many.....and then all came in....Mycroft, Greg, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Anderson and Sally....everyone.....and they all hated me and said that you should finish me!.....And the worst part....I felt that I deserved it!!” Sherlock was almost rambling._ _

__“Oh Jesus, Sherlock...” and John was so close to call him “Love”....but he hurried to change it to “ ’Lock”.......”Listen to me....and listen very carefully. All the persons you mentioned...they most certainly do not hate you.....on the contrary! Well except from Anderson...” John still tried to lighten the mood._ _

__But Sherlock just looked at John: “But...but the list you had in my dream.....it was the truth....not a single thing on that list was a lie!”_ _

__John just looked at him and gave Sherlock’s hand a light squeeze: “Everyone makes mistakes...and involuntarily hurts others. I suppose that there could be made a list....with a lot of lines...of our fails and flaws for everyone of us all. Nobody is perfect, Sherlock!”_ _

__Sherlock murmured something, but John couldn’t hear what it was....and when he asked Sherlock to repeat it, Sherlock just looked at him and said it was nothing! (but he had murmured “ _You _are, John!”....because it was what he felt).___ _

____Suddenly John noticed.....as the light in the room grew brighter as the sun was rising, that there were dark stains on the sheet in Sherlock’s bed._ _ _ _

____“Oh my god Sherlock...you are bleeding! Or you have done that during the night. No wonder you dreamt about pain. The dried blood must have tugged at your wounds. What has happened?”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock now sat up in his bed...and John could see the blood on Sherlock’s T-shirt._ _ _ _

____Sherlock shrugged: “I knew it would make bruises.....but actually I didn’t know I was bleeding!”_ _ _ _

____John rose to his feet: “I’ll make a bath for you...with disinfectant....and you are going to soak in that before we attempt to get that T-shirt off. And while you are soaking you can tell me what happened. I’m sorry Sherlock, but when I came back from my double-shift and I found you sleeping I didn’t think of looking closer at you. I’m sorry!”_ _ _ _

____“No need to be. I’m a grown man. I can look after myself, John” said Sherlock as he got out of the bed.....but as he stumbled and nearly fell, John chuckled and said: “You git....yeah I can see that! Back into bed...until that bath is ready for you!”_ _ _ _

____And to John’s astonishment Sherlock obeyed.....maybe he was more wounded than John thought!_ _ _ _

____John hurried to the bathroom and started to fill the bath-tub. Thank god that it was ancient piping....their shower gave water enough...equivalent to the Niagara....and the tub would be filled in about 10 minutes._ _ _ _

____“Don’t you dare to remove the T-shirt your-self, Sherlock” shouted John from the bathroom: “I’ll probably have to stitch you together....judging by the blood on the sheet...and there is no reason to open the wounds more than necessary!”_ _ _ _

____“I have no intentions of doing so, John. I’m not stupid!” was the answer in Sherlock’s deep rumbling voice._ _ _ _

____"You could have fooled me!" John shouted back took the bottle with disinfectant and poured a generous amount in the water._ _ _ _

____“Thank god” thought John as he went out the other door from the bathroom to fetch his medical kit from the cupboard in the kitchen: “Sherlock seems to be out of his nightmare now!”_ _ _ _


	3. Taking care

Sherlock was obediently lying in his bed..and actually on his back. It didn’t seem to hurt more doing so. His back and buttocks were throbbing no matter what position he was in. He was very careful not to move around. 

“So...the bath is ready, Sherlock. I’ll help you.”

Sherlock’s eyes snapped open.....John had just left 5 seconds ago...hadn’t he? And even their ancient piping would not be able to fill a bathtub so fast.

John helped Sherlock to the bathroom and into the bathtub. Sherlock was still wearing his pyjama-bottom and his threadbare T-shirt......but that was the whole idea by “soaking”.

Sherlock sighed as he came into the water.....not as hot as he liked it and it smelt a bit of disinfectant....but it felt good. John had put one of the towels on the rim, so Sherlock could rest his head.

John carefully examined Sherlock’s head. But it was more a scratch than a bump.

“He barely touched me..” said Sherlock: “I didn’t lose consciousness and I have not experienced nausea!”

“Never the less” John sighed: “When I came home from my double shift, I shouldn’t have been content with you sleeping. I ought to have taking a better look at you....I know you....You always crash when a case is solved...and I suppose you solved it when I was at the clinic.”

Sherlock smirked and looked up at John: “Of course!”

“Well, you can tell me more about it a bit later...I’ll have to change the bedding....there are bloodstains. And quite a lot!”

John left the bathroom but returned shortly after carrying Sherlock’s jacket and trousers: “Jesus Sherlock. Your attacker....what did he use on you?!”

And John’s fingers were able to be put through several actual holes in both jacket and trousers.

Sherlock shrug his shoulders: “Well, I suppose my shirt would be in same poor condition. Thank God it is the black one! I think he used some kind of whip....But you said that you wanted to hear about it later and not now!”

“Yeah...I know...and I will. Just you soak a bit longer....and don’t try to get up from the water before I’m in here again!”  
___________________  
John returned a bit later and helped Sherlock out of the soaked clothes.....and that was the time where Sherlock realised his mistake.

Having John back in his life in Baker Street had been delightful. But with one single problem. Last time John had stayed for more than a few hours, Sherlock had been wounded....in fact by John’s wife....and his libido had, thank God, decided to take a pause. Sherlock’s sexuality wasn’t a steady factor in his life. Sometimes he could go for months without needing a sexual release....and while he had been around the world entangling Moriarty’s network, it had barely shown itself for two years. After university Sherlock had normally gone several months without release with no problems, even as he and John lived together in the beginning....but now, when John was around every day, Sherlock was worried that John might notice that Sherlock got erections....and even more because Sherlock would get erections when John ordered him around. Just like Sherlock had had quite a problem hiding his arousal as John pulled rank way back at Baskervilles. Actually just John’s presence was sometimes enough...so Sherlock had begun to wear what he had worn those two years away...a cock ring. Preventing erections he didn’t have the time or the lust to do something about....and now he wasn’t wearing it. What if he got an erection now?

His T-shirt and pyjama-trousers was carefully removed...he had no pants on.....and John just turned his back to him and handed him his old blue silk gown with his head turned away.....and Sherlock thought: “Oh my...is my body that repulsive?”

He should have heard John’s thoughts: “Oh my.....get a grip on it John Watson! Sherlock is wounded....he doesn’t need you ogling his delicious body right now!” 

Sherlock laid down on his stomach on the bed on several towels that John had put there and John helped him get out of the silk gown. John had carefully put a towel over Sherlock’s buttocks, so only Sherlock’s back was exposed.

John examined Sherlock’s back, and was rather worried because of the scars he saw there. But it was not the place or time to mention them so John said: “I’ll have to stitch you a few places....nothing much, but I’ll have to give you some local anaesthetics...and then we’ll have to wait till it sets in. So now while we wait, you can tell me more about that case!”

And he fetched the syringe and injected the local anaesthetic around the wounds on Sherlock’s back.

“So.....now we just have to wait!”

Sherlock did wonder a bit why John didn’t say something about his scars...there were quite a few. But maybe John felt so repulsed about them that he wouldn’t mention them.  
Sherlock turned his upper body a bit so he could face John. Thank god his groin was covered by the towel: “Well I was lying on the couch going through the case....and I felt something wasn’t right. That I’ve missed something. So I got up, hailed a cab and drove to the crime-scene. I had texted Lestrade that I would be there. I went under the police-tape, picked the lock and got inside. The dining room was rather warm so I took of my coat and began to examine the floor. I was so occupied that it never occurred to me that the culprit would return to the place of his crime...his murder. Or else I wouldn’t have gone without back-up, believe me, John.  
And yet...he came back...hit me in the head with something and as I fell down on the floor and he began to beat me with that Zimbabwean knife-whip he had taken from the African collection of weapons hanging on the wall....right there I saw everything clearly. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place and I must have yelled at him: “The black suitcase, of course.....” because he gasped and stopped beating me and ran. I got back on my feet again....so happy that I finally had solved the case and a bit angry at myself for not having seen the solution before. I called Lestrade, told him where he could find his murderer and put on my coat, hailed a cab and went home. I suddenly felt so tired.”

John looked at Sherlock and said: “You are amazing...you solved the case in less than 2 days! Brilliant!”

Sherlock enjoyed John’s praise but huffed and said as he laid down on his stomach again: “Well...if I hadn’t been that blind, I would have solved it in 24 hours!”  
__________________  
After John had stitched the wounds on Sherlock’s back he said: “I’ll have to look at your buttocks too.”

And Sherlock had huffed and said: “You sound so embarrassed...as if you have never seen the private parts of a man before. For God’s sake...it is just transport, John!”

And John had carefully .....and maybe just a bit too long.....examined the wounds there too.

“They are not so deep. Your back took the lion’s part!” he said and continued: “They can be mended with 'butterfly strips'..." and he put them on the 5 wounds there....wondering where from Sherlock had got the other scars there. They were small and almost invisible, but they were there. John put the towel back in place and removed his gloves. He sat for a while, as Sherlock just was laying still. His head turned away from John.

John laughed a bit insecure and said: “You’ve got quite a selection there...your scars...”

Sherlock turned on his side so he could face John: “Do you find them repulsive?”

“Oh God, no...Do you find my scar repulsive?”

“No” said Sherlock as he laid down again....mostly to prevent John from noticing that Sherlock blushed a bit: “I find it fascinating! It tells a story......and brought you to London” (“And to me” he thought...but he would never say that out loud.)

“Well...your scars have a story to tell, too....And I’m sorry for being such an arsehole, Sherlock. But......I’m here to listen now......I have never asked what happened while you were....away. I......I......”

“Yeah....and the opportunity never really turned up, did it?”

And then Sherlock said something that even surprised himself: “You may ask now...and.....and I do not mind if you want to touch......”

His voice faded as he thought: “You are an idiot, Sherlock....why would he like to touch your repulsive body!?”

But again John surprised Sherlock as he gently touched the different scars in turn and asked: "It happened just before you returned?"........“Cigarette burns?”....Knifes?”........”A whip?”......”A cane?”......”A bludgeon?”.....To the latter the answer from Sherlock was: ”No.....a water pipe, actually.”

And Sherlock could only answer “Yeah” to everyone...John was nearly just as god as Sherlock at identifying wounds and scars.

“No neurotically damages? “

“Not anymore...It is after all 2 years ago!” And Sherlock turned towards John again and said: “My ribs had healed too....and the wounds, that accidentally had been re-opened, were re-stitched again. The wounds on my wrists have healed and the damage done to my shoulders has healed too. I’ve had physiotherapy to stretch the scar-tissue and to restore the strength in my muscles and the full movement in my shoulders.....so all in all I’m functioning fully again. My broken nose had healed without problems too. You do not have to worry, John. I’m fit...and those small wounds on my back will be fine in no time. I’ve had worse!”

As Sherlock spoke John realised something: “Oh my God, Sherlock. I’m so sorry.....I was the cause that you would have to have your wounds re-stitched.....I made you fall on your wounded back.....I....I was the one who broke your nose.......and you had broken ribs...Oh my God!”

And John actually began to cry and turned his back to Sherlock ready to run away....as he always did when it came to areas regarding feelings.

He felt a strong hand gripping his shoulders.....Sherlock had moved with his usual swiftness and was kneeling behind John on his bed.....and with his strong hands on John’s upper arms: “Don’t you dare to run away...again...John Watson! You wanted to know......and I’m so tired of my and your refusal of “seeing the elephant in the room”. Now is just a good time as ever.....you said that you would listen.....and goddammit, John. You are going to listen now!”

John’s shoulders sagged a bit: “I’ll listen....you can let go of my arms. At least I can listen. I owe you that much!”

Sherlock did let go of John’s arms....and cursed at himself and said: “I’m sorry....that was very rude of me. I’m not going to force you....Forgive me!” and he turned away and prepared to get out of bed: “Of course you can leave...” (and he almost panicked as he thought: “But please........only my bedroom....not the flat....not my life!!” but he couldn’t say that out loud!)

John turned around and looked at Sherlock and smiled: “Yes...only your bedroom. Not the flat and most certainly not your life!”

(Oh shit.....had Sherlock just said that out loud!?)

John rose to his feet: “I’m going to do what every English-man do in a critical situation...I’m going to make us a cup of tea. You get dressed....and then we need to talk: you are going to tell me what happened while you were away. And I’ll have to collect my courage and tell you something too......and it is not....” John continued as he saw the beginning of panic in Sherlock’s eyes: “....that I’m going to leave in any way. I’m afraid that you are stuck with me for as long as you want me.....but I think we need to discuss some elephants!”

And John went out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Sherlock hurried to get dressed in his clean pyjama bottom and another T-shirt and the beige morning gown. “Elephants”...yes...but did he dare tell John about the depth of his feelings for him? He didn’t want to ruin their friendship....not now when it apparently was back on track again.


	4. So many mistakes

When Sherlock came out into the kitchen he just remained standing a few seconds before he sat down at the table.

Well....first sentence was a “safe play”: “You’ll have to help me wash my hair later, please John. I can’t take a shower now.....and there is still blood in it.”

And then he took his tea mug and took a sip.

But John did read it for what it was: a move in a “game of chess”...or in a game of “who would acknowledge the elephant in the room first?”

“Well, right....I understood that you wouldn’t mind telling me what happened while you were away.....and I promise you, Sherlock. I’m here to listen....and I’m sorry that I haven’t asked before or not even realised how much I did harm you when you turned up at that restaurant! It was a huge mistake...that I treated you like that....I...” And right there John Watson ran out of courage.

Now it was Sherlock’s turn....time to be honest.....and John had said that he wouldn’t leave.

“Well....I think the mistakes were mine. John. Several actually. But I need you to make a promise. That no matter what I tell you.....you will not run away. You’ll stay and listen.....and without interrupting me. After I have told you ....everything...then you can decide whether you’ll stay or leave.....But please....do not leave before that....do not make any rash decisions before you have heard what I’m going to say. Can you promise me that?”

(And Sherlock said to himself: you’ll have to accept his decision.....stop being selfish, Sherlock!)

“I promise!” said John.

“And I’m going to hurt you with my words I’m afraid. For that I’ll ask you to forgive me...because it would be explained later..”

“Sherlock...I said that I would listen, didn’t I? So that is what I’m bloody doing. So please couldn’t you just continue?...”

“Well. My first big mistake was to let you into my life...”

John took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. The pain in his chest.....yes Sherlock did hurt him with those words....so much that John nearly missed the next words:  
“...because that made me vulnerable. You were a subject for blackmailing.....for being a hostage. No one has ever meant so much to me before. No one! I realised that in the moment where I saw you in that semtex-vest in that pool-room. I have to admit that I for a fraction of a second thought you were Moriarty....But soon realised my mistake.....and the thought of you being blown to pieces was unbearable. I would have offered myself to Moriarty...to do with whatever he pleased...if I had thought that it could have saved you. I couldn’t think....I couldn’t plan.....all I could think was....”oh god...no...please....not John!” And that is no good standing in front of a psychopath! How upset I was ...I don’t even know if you noticed.....but I actually scratched my head with a loaded gun!”

“I noticed...” said John, but even if he wanted to say more, he respected Sherlock’s request. But Sherlock’s words touched him.....did they mean that Sherlock somehow felt a bit like John felt?

Sherlock looked at him and continued: “Second big mistake was to treat you as I did in Baskerville, drugging you and yelling at you. For that I offer my humblest apology......”

Sherlock took a deep breath....this was difficult!

“Third big mistake was that I had to jump from Bart’s in front of your eyes. I should have known that you would figure it out and come back too soon. I never intended you to actual witness my jump. But when Jim shot himself all the rest of my plans crumbled.....and I had only the last one left...”Lazarus”. I even tried to tell you....used present tense: “It _is _all a magic trick.....but I couldn’t tell you too much. I just hoped that you might remember my words later and understand. The snipers on you and Mrs Hudson and Greg......they were all waiting to hear that I had jumped....and your grief had to be genuine......and for a long time. You were still in danger if I had returned as “not dead” within the first 6 months.....and after that I had no longer any possibility to return. I was too engulfed in the tearing apart of Moriarty’s web.”__

__John now found it very difficult to keep his promise and he actually almost squeaked : “Snipers?!?”_ _

__Sherlock looked at him again and said: “I’m going to elaborate that later, OK?”_ _

__And John could only nod.....but inside his mind was in a turmoil.....Sherlock had jumped to save their lives!! And John hadn’t known!!!!!_ _

__“4th big mistake was to think that I could de-tangle that criminal organisation faster.....I had thought it could be done in less than a year. Stupid of me! And the scars on my back ,John....they show my other big mistakes.....well some of them not so big, since I got the necessary information on the cost of a bit of pain and a bit of blood...”_ _

__Now John couldn’t keep his mouth shut any more: “Jesus...are you telling me that you got yourself caught and tortured to get information!?!”_ _

__“Yeah....that was the fastest way.....and I was running out of time. My 5th big mistake was to trust a man from one of Mycroft’s connections. He turned out to be a mole....my cover was blown and I had to hide in the woods for two months. From June ´13 till middle August. Baron Maupertius’ men caught me in the woods and brought me to their castle....I escaped but decided to break in to get more information.....and got caught again. I don’t know if they genuinely wanted information....because there are so many other more efficient methods: chemicals and more refined torture methods....but they just made me thirst and starved me, prevented me from sleep and beat me up and tortured me: with whips and water pipes, cigarette burns and at one occasion with a hot poker. They let me hang with my arms stretched out so I would dislocate my shoulders if I lost consciousness. The biggest portion of my scars on my back is the proof of that treatment. Mycroft got me out.....but don’t you dare to tell him that.....I had almost reached the end of my leach and would probably have died if Mycroft hadn’t turned up!”_ _

__John had listened to Sherlock’s calm mention of his injuries and torture and the only thing he could say...with tears in his eyes...was: “Oh God....Sherlock...”_ _

__Sherlock just looked at him again and continued: “6th mistake was to expect everything to stay unchanged when I returned. Stupid of me....of course people would have moved on. But the thought of you...here in London and being safe.....that was what brought me through the more than 700 days and nights. At a few occasions I was outside in the middle of the night and I looked at the stars imagining that you were looking at the same stars too. Of course it was stupid as there is so much light in London even at night, that we barely can see the stars! When Mycroft got me out of Serbia I was sent to a hospital in Germany, where they took care of my wounds and gave me heavy antibiotics to fight the infections...and after 10 days in that hospital, Mycroft insisted on my return. I was dearly needed in London.....and that was my 7th big mistake. I should have stayed in Berlin and made new life there!”_ _

__“No” said John: “No way...if you had stayed in Berlin we would have needed a new parliament-building and a new parliament.....the latter not so bad, but anyway! So it was necessary ....essential....that you returned! Mycroft....despite his claim of being the smarter one....he couldn’t figure it out. But you could....no one else could have done that. And I’ve really tried to keep my mouth shut for now, as you asked of me....but not any more. Not when you diminish what you did on Guy Fawkes Day....or for that matter, the day before......YOU got me out of that fire. Without you I would have been burned to death!!!! ”_ _

__Sherlock shook his head: “No.....without me you wouldn’t have been in that fire at all! Remember who did it....and why. I was the one who provoked Magnussen....If I hadn’t been a threat to him, he wouldn’t have had his men catch you in the first place! It all points back to me!! Without me accepting to “dance” with Moriarty, he wouldn’t have made so insane plots and killed so many people. Yes...he began with Carl Powers......but he would just have been that “consulting criminal” and would have made rather small crimes....not turned them up so many notches because he wanted to “dance” with me. And I was intrigued....fascinated by the riddles, so I stupidly accepted to “dance” with him......and just see the results!!!”_ _

__Sherlock had clenched his hands together so hard that his knuckles had turned white and John dared to reach out and touch them as he said:  
“Sherlock....listen to me. I really...really think you....despite your big brain...are on the wrong track here. Such people.....if no one stops them in time....they’ll ruin the world. They think that they are Gods.....to do whatever pleases them. They are psychopaths....They would have continued their path.......and just gotten worse over time. Moriarty would have made an organisation just as strong as the Mafia or the Japanese Yakuza or the Russian Mafia.....and ruin the life of a lot of people.....and Magnussen would just have sought more and more power until he in reality would have ruled England....more than he already did.”_ _

__“John....Moriarty WAS the Russian Mafia....” said Sherlock calmly._ _

__John looked at Sherlock in shock: “Are you telling me that you single-handedly destroyed the whole fucking Russian Mafia?!”_ _

__“No...not single-handedly.....but I removed enough persons, either by legal means by collecting enough evidence against them to make the justice system pick them up...or....just.....”removed” them....to make it possible for the agents in the respective countries pick up and destroy the rest.”_ _

__“Are you telling me that you have acted like a bloody “James 007 Bond” those 2 years away?!”_ _

__Sherlock looked down at his own hands not daring looking into John’s eyes, fearing what he might see there.....disgust?....aversion?: “Close......I’ve killed a lot of people, John. More than 30.....I’ve tortured people to get the information to get to the next person higher up in the organisations. I’ve told you John....I m not a hero.....I am not a good man! I am a sociopath...albeit a high-functioning one!”_ _

__John just looked at Sherlock and said: “Bullshit.....you are no such thing! Stop calling yourself that!!! Let me ask you one thing: Did you enjoy killing them.....did it turn you on?”_ _

__Sherlock’s head snapped up: “That was two things, John, but oh God...I didn’t....no....but it was necessary.....so I had to do it. The first one was the worst....then it got easier. But not that easy. I still hear their screams sometimes in my nightmares....”_ _

__“And that proves my point....it wouldn’t have affected you at all if you had been a sociopath....a psychopath.....You just did what was necessary......just like I did as a soldier. Sherlock.....I’ve killed more than 30 persons.....unfortunately in some cases even civilians if they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. When you as an officer give the order to attack a military post.....well...the missiles do not only hit soldiers......Does that make me into a psychopath?”_ _

__“No! But that is different! You were a soldier....it was a war! That is different!”_ _

__“No it is not....you were in a war too, Sherlock....a war against organized criminality! Oh God....if I had known what you had been through....I wouldn’t have laid a finger on you. Why did you let me hurt you so much?!”_ _

__“Because I realised just there....just then....and far, far too late, what I had made you endure! I deserved what you did to me! It was my own fault....and the 8th mistake to turn up in that restaurant like that....and not leaving again as soon as I found out about you and Mary. I should have listened to Mycroft, who said it was a bad idea. But I had played that scene in my head so many times.....how you would smile your wonderful smile at me....and....and give me a hug......and we would have gone home to...to Baker Street together!!” Sherlock was almost stuttering now and felt so embarrassed. He had been so stupid!_ _

__And then he swallowed and continued: “No matter what you did to me...even if you had killed me.....I would have accepted it.....because I had hurt you so much!”_ _

__John could only look at Sherlock in awe......what that man had endured for him......what Sherlock had done for him......it was not to get a hold of.....so all he could say was: “Oh Jesus....Sherlock!”_ _

__Sherlock continued....now again looking at his hands: “My 9th mistake.....well I suppose it was not to let you know my feelings until it was too late!” And Sherlock hurried to continue: “My 10th mistake was not to tell you what I had found out about Mary before it was too late and my......”_ _

__Now really worried John interrupted Sherlock: “I know I promised....but what do you mean by that?!”_ _

__Sherlock looked at John with tears in his eyes: “I....I lied to you....I..I said that I hadn’t read the A.G.R.A stick.....but I had....even if she didn’t tell much on it...but enough to give me clues to more information...Oh John...I couldn’t tell you! Please forgive me!”_ _

__“Not that.....that can wait....no your 9th mistake? Your feelings.....”until it was too late”.....what do you mean by that?!”_ _

__Sherlock frowned: “I...I told you how I felt...but too late.....I told you at your wedding.....Yeah “so fine Sherlock”..” Sherlock mocked himself: “What a timing!..”_ _

__“Told me what?!”_ _

__Now Sherlock looked at John...with an expression so open and vulnerable as John never had seen him before. And then Sherlock bowed his head and looked away again.  
“That I loved you....” Sherlock managed to whisper._ _

__Now it was John’s turn to lose his breath.....did Sherlock reciprocate John’s feelings?!_ _

__“When did you tell me that?” was all John managed to whisper too._ _

Sherlock lifted his head: “Surely you must remember what I said: “..... _today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved – in short, the two people who love you most in all this world.” _....well obviously one of them was a liar....and it wasn’t me, so.....”__

____John had got to his feet...it was now or never...while he still had the courage. The rest of Sherlock’s self-flagellation could wait....and he remembered the words clearly....but had not wanted to acknowledge them? Or not wanted to know their deeper and true meaning? So that left only one thing to do and he spoke as he moved around the table: “I remember....and since I’m not good with words, then actions would have to do!”_ _ _ _

____And he reached for Sherlock’s face....oh God he had longed to do that.....took Sherlock’s face gently in his hands and stroked those ridiculous cheekbones with his thumbs and tilted his head a bit so their noses wouldn’t clash together and finally....finally...put his mouth gently against Sherlock’s wonderful plush lips._ _ _ _

____First Sherlock was almost frozen....like a deer in the headlights of a car and then he made a small sound in his throat and kissed John hungrily back.....like a starving man._ _ _ _


	5. Removing "elephants"

When John finally let Sherlock’s face go, Sherlock looked up at John with almost the same expression he had had when John asked him to be his fist man.

“Hey...Sherlock...stay with me. Do not disappear into your mind-palace!” John said as he still caressed Sherlock’s face.

“I...I wasn’t. Just cataloguing the sensations for later...” was the answer.

John smiled: “You don’t have to......this was not a one-time-event.....not if I have something to say!”

Sherlock smiled genuinely now....but could John still read a remnant of fear in Sherlock’s eyes? And Sherlock said in his deep voice: “I’m glad to hear that....I’m just a bit puzzled, John. Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I love you too, you git!”

“But you are not gay!?”

“No...I’m not” said John and sat down on his chair again but took Sherlock’s hand in his....he could already see Sherlock’s “shields” slide into place again and Sherlock’s shoulders slump in defeat: “I understand...” said Sherlock.

“No you don’t....and you jump to a conclusion without enough data!” 

John sighed and put his other hand’s palm against his right eye: “Look...this is not easy for me. My parents were rather religious.....so they sort of threw Harriet out of the house when she told them she was homo-sexual. And it took 2 years of hard work from my side to make them see each other again. I was their hope....their heir.....and I couldn’t tell them.... or even myself..... that there were a couple of boys I wouldn’t mind to kiss! So.....I denied that side of me....and having no difficulties to attract women’s attention...I stayed with that. Only in Afghanistan I found another male officer attractive enough to wonder if....”

“Sholto?”

“Yeah...but we never reacted upon that. Mutual interest....indeed....but him being my senior officer...it would have been very inappropriate. And captain Hanson......well I think it was more an adrenaline-fuelled “Thank-God-we-are-still-alive” mutual wank and kissing. But you, Sherlock...you fascinated me from the very first moment when I saw you......and we got friends....and I would give my life to protect you. I was ready to die together with you in the pool....and at the same time you drove me insane! And you told me that night at Angeloe’s that you were married to your work......so I just assumed that you didn’t do that sort of relationships!”

“Oh...John. We had just met! And besides.... you were rather persistent with your “I’m not gay!”

“Yeah...I know.....and well....now we come to one of the “elephants”......you seemed so...untouchable.....so cold and distant. I realise now it was your armour against the world...a bit like your coat....a strategy: “I better attack with my acerbic words before someone attacks me”....Am I right?”

Sherlock looked at John...who hadn’t run away...who was back with him again and who had just kissed him.....Did John want more than just kisses?!

Sherlock said a bit stuttering: “I....I....have always felt awkward....different.....and I can understand peoples motives and can read a lot about them in the way they dress, speak, act.....but I have never truly understood the _feelings _behind peoples motives.....like the “lady in pink”.....that the death of her infant still would have so much impact. I’m better at this now.....I _can _learn.......but it sometimes still puzzles me. You say that I have a big brain......and I’m intelligent....a genius even.....but I’m inadequate when it comes to understand people’s feelings...And that left me standing in the school-yard at the age of 6 totally lost when it came to the interactions of the other boys. It was as if they spoke a language I didn’t know....and at that time I knew more than 5 fluently...but not theirs. So....since it would be better to initiate the first attack, I began to deduce them....reveal their little secrets. They stopped bullying me.....but I gained no friends...they just left me alone.”____

____Sherlock’s words did touch John....he could easily imagine that little lonely boy, who because of his parent’s lack of understanding if his special needs, had thought that he would function like Mycroft. But Sherlock was....despite his similar intelligence...not Mycroft. Sherlock had been made of softer stuff....and had been so hurt and harmed._ _ _ _

____John rose and kissed Sherlock’s mouth again and said: “I would so much have liked to tell those bullies and the teachers a thing or too....very firmly......and even your parents. My heart aches for that little lost boy.....and I know understand your defence-mechanisms better. It is not because I do not want to hear the rest...especially that part about....oh God....the snipers....and Mary. But I’m starving and could eat a horse by now...so....I’m going to make us breakfast.....you are going to eat some of it because you need the protein to heal. And then we are going to sit on the couch together...I’ve longed for doing that for so long......you and me touching. And then we have some elephants left to remove from the room. What do you say?”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock smiled: “I am actually hungry....so it sounds like a great idea!”  
_________________________ _ _ _

____They ate breakfast...scrambled eggs and bacon, sausages and tomatoes......and Sherlock actually ate it all...in comfortable silence._ _ _ _

____Then John took Sherlock by the hand and guided him to the couch in the living room and asked: “I sit...you would be lying ....I would prefer if it would with your head on my thighs.....would that be OK?”_ _ _ _

____“It would be excellent, John” was the answer.  
___________________ _ _ _

____As they had positioned themselves....and oh God...it felt so right...John began to speak....moving his hands through Sherlock’s curls, being very careful not to touch the spot where there still was a bit blood left and bump on Sherlock’s head: “I’ll help you wash your hair later.....but there are still too many of mine and yours elephants in the room. So...”  
John took a deep breath and continued: “I’m not good at this....and that is typical male behaviour! But in order not to leave any doubt: William Sherlock Scott Holmes.....I love you!....I’ve done that for a longer time that I had even admitted to myself......not that I didn’t care about you.....was fond of you....Hell, loosing you almost did shut me down...But....I.Love.You.....I can’t imagine a life without you. I want to grow old with you. I want to live with you....and.....and....”_ _ _ _

____Now John bowed his head and manoeuvred his head in such an angle that he was able to kiss Sherlock, who on his side lifted his head up: “I’ll respect if you would not want to be more intimate than cuddles, caresses or kisses....but I would like us to be...boyfriends?!” And then he kissed Sherlock who kissed John back.....a bit cautiously...almost asking if it was allowed._ _ _ _

____Then it was Sherlock’s turn to speak ad he did lay down again....now looking out into the air...as if that what he would say was written there somewhere in the air between the couch and the curtains, but he held John’s right hand in his, positioned on his own chest._ _ _ _

____“It is a bit difficult...I’ve been hiding it for so long.....and again I must ask you not to interrupt me....at least not demand any further explanations until later”.  
“Is that OK?, he asked catching John’s eyes._ _ _ _

____“OK!”_ _ _ _

____“Well..I was counting my mistakes: I recall I got to the 9th and 10th mistake. Well about the 9th...I do love you John Hamish Watson. But it took me some time to realize......not that I wasn’t prepared to die...if that was needed to save you..”_ _ _ _

____And John had to put in a: “Oh Sherlock...”_ _ _ _

____And Sherlock continued: “But you didn’t hesitate to do that either....May I mention the pool again?! But I valued our friendship so high, that I didn’t want to risk pushing you away by declaring my very inappropriate love towards my very heterosexual flatmate, who used every opportunity to emphasise that “he wasn’t gay”......so I quickly decided not to show my true feelings...”_ _ _ _

____And Sherlock talked and talked.....gesticulating....sometimes looking into John’s eyes as he told more about his time away. How he had been at the churchyard and had seen John’s grief....and that had almost made him show himself.....only the knowledge that that could indeed endanger John’s life, had held him back. He told about his loneliness, his fears and his despair. The plans, that didn’t always work and how he slowly and determinedly had unravelled Moriarty’s network, aided sometimes by Mycroft’s connections and how he finally had had his cover blown and ended in the cellars of baron Maupertius’ castle and almost died there._ _ _ _

____“When I finally returned and found out that you had moved on and wanted to get married....I told myself that you indeed deserved it....to be happy. And that my own selfish needs didn’t matter a thing compared to that! You should have what you wanted: a wife, children and a not dangerous job! I would sacrifice everything to make sure that you got that!”_ _ _ _

____As Sherlock said the last sentence, he had moved and was now kneeling on the floor on front of John._ _ _ _

____Sherlock continued: “That was why I would try to give you the best wedding ever.....and the best first man’s speech. No matter how much my own heart ached. You deserved to be happy. My own needs were insignificant compared to that!”_ _ _ _

____John bend forward and took Sherlock’s head between his hands and kissed Sherlock’s forehead and then tilted his head and kissed Sherlock’s lips too.....just a tender kiss...nothing more._ _ _ _

____Then he moved his head away and looked at Sherlock who had closed his eyes and just was holding John’s arms just above the wrist in his big hands._ _ _ _

____“Jesus...Sherlock....and I was stupid enough to believe for a short time that Mary was what I wanted. I was already bored on our honeymoon.....and I only stayed because one does not leave a pregnant wife. I was fond of her.....I might even have believed that I loved her...but that ended the second she shot you! And I still do not understand why you wanted me to go back to her...to forgive her......and until the end of my days I’ll not be able to understand why you shot Magnussen and almost had got yourself sent away.....for good.....I’m not stupid Sherlock. I can recognize a suicide-mission when I see one!”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock stayed on his knees and bowed his head: “You are going to hate me so much for what I’m going to tell you John...”_ _ _ _

____“About the contents of the A.G.R.A-stick?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah...and a lot more. As I said: my 10th mistake was that I lied to you....I..I said that I hadn’t read the A.G.R.A stick.....but I had....even if she didn’t tell much on it...but enough to give me clues to more information...Oh John...I couldn’t tell you! Please forgive me!”_ _ _ _

____“What couldn’t you tell me?”_ _ _ _

____“That Mary was working for Moriarty. She was one of the snipers at the pool....she was the sniper put on you when I had to jump.....there were two others on Greg and Mrs. Hudson. If I hadn’t jumped....you would have been shot! Later......much later I learned that if Jim hadn’t shot himself on that roof, Mary would have shot him.....so you were not in real danger......but I first found out about that long after I had returned to London. Actually first after Mary shot me!”_ _ _ _

____John was sitting totally still.....his mind working at full stretch to absorb this information. He wheezed with clenched fists: “.......traitorous.....untrustworthy......excuse of a human being.....”_ _ _ _

____“I’m so sorry, John...please forgive me...but I.....” Sherlock looked stoically at John.....apparently expecting to be hit any moment and not even trying to defend himself....just accepting and as soon John realised he hurried to assure him: “Oh...God....Sherlock....Love! Not you!!! Mary!!!”_ _ _ _

____“Come” and John reached for Sherlock: “Come love...lie down again. Oh Jesus...I wasn’t angry at you.....at myself maybe...and definitely at Mary......but not at you!”_ _ _ _

____And it touched John’s heart that Sherlock would have accepted yet an outburst of rage from John._ _ _ _

____John smiled: “I really will have to do something about my temper.....I do not want you to fear that I’ll ever hit you again, like I did at that restaurant. Never!!”_ _ _ _

____John gently removed himself from under Sherlock and said: “I know....it is never a good idea to drink when in mental turmoil.....but I could use something strong right now.....and what about you? Removing elephants is hard work” he smirked._ _ _ _

____And Sherlock smirked back: “Well, they are not easy to move around...and yes...thank you!”_ _ _ _

____John fetched a pair of glasses and a bottle of very fine whiskey....a gift from a client._ _ _ _

____And the two men sat for a moment close together on the couch...in silence while they enjoyed the rich flavour of the very fine whiskey indeed._ _ _ _

____Sherlock sat the glass down and looked at John and John nodded, so Sherlock put his head back in John’s lap and continued: “Well....”elephant-removal”....I think Mary really wanted to quit her old life.....and she saw a possibility in you at the pool. She saw bravery.....but wrapped in a checked shirt and a cardigan.....she saw the mild mannered doctor with the soldier of steel inside...and decided that she wanted you. You were not in real danger at Bart’s.....but I didn’t know then. And now to the next elephant: Why I wanted you to forgive Mary and go back to her. What I found out about her just before she shot me. You see....Magnussen had put a price on my head. Mary had taken the task, because it would have suited her perfectly. That was until she found out about your feelings for me. Mary was extremely intelligent......more than you John...and you are not stupid at all. She was that skilled and intelligent that she deluded me.....and Mycroft......and that acquires something. And she saw your feelings for me even before you would acknowledge them yourself. So...in Magnussen’s office she had turned up to make him take the contract back.....she couldn’t jump out of it herself...because he had something on her....connections to some persons from her old, now unwanted life. Right there she discovered that it wasn’t about her at all...Magnussen wanted to control Mycroft....Mycroft’s pressure-point was me. And I had hoped that I could convince Magnussen that I was an addict again. But he didn’t buy it...unfortunately. That was the main reason why I was in that crack-den, John. Well that and my feeling of utter loneliness....so I maybe used a bit more than intended. Despite Janine being in my apartment, as you discovered.  
Well...My pressure- point was you and yours.....well Magnussen made a mistake here....he thought that your pressure-point was Mary....”And now Sherlock looked directly into John’s eyes: “But he was wrong...wasn’t he? Your pressure-point was me!”_ _ _ _

____John smiled: “Yes”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock continued: “Well...back to Magnussen’s office. Mary was caught between the rock and the hard place. She didn’t want to kill me by shooting me in the head....because she knew that she would lose you, if I died...and she couldn’t just shoot me in an arm or a leg....because Magnussen then would see that she didn’t intend to kill me...and fulfil her contract. So she shot me a place where I would have a chance of survival. She did her best....but she couldn’t know that my inferior vena cava was slightly bigger than average and was a tad closer to the centreline of my body than normal. Hitting that place on a lot of other humans would have wounded them....but not have given them such a massive internal bleeding as I had. I flat-lined twice, John.....and the last time on the operating table even before they had performed surgery. They couldn’t put the blood back in my circulatory system fast enough to keep my heart beating. They had put the pen on the paper to write down the time of death as my heart was filled with the remaining blood and started beating on its own again. They hurried to open my abdomen and close the hole in the inferior vena cava....and remove the bullet.....and I was back again.”_ _ _ _

____John had listened in horror....he hadn’t known how close Sherlock had been to being taken by the Grim Reaper. And he couldn’t say anything....just hugged Sherlock and kissed his forehead._ _ _ _

____And Sherlock understood it for what it was.....a thankfulness for Sherlock being alive._ _ _ _

____His anger towards Mary returned as Sherlock continued: “Well...we agreed on “no elephants”....so Mary turned up at the hospital to threaten me not to tell you what she had done.....but you found out at Leinster Garden. And you had to buy my explanation about “surgery” and you had to go back to Mary again. Or else......” Sherlock’s voice faded._ _ _ _

____“Or else?” asked John._ _ _ _

____“Or else, she might have decided that it would have been best if I had died after all.....and I actually preferred to be alive. I could live with....had to accept...that you didn’t want me.....only as a remote friend...that you didn’t reciprocate my feelings.....and that had to be enough for me. That you were alive and kicking....somewhere else than Baker Street.....and I couldn’t even be sure that if you decided to leave her....that you would be alive for long. She somehow loved you, John.....but it was a possessive love and she would never have allowed you to leave her!”_ _ _ _

____“I realize that now” said John: “But I still do not understand why you shot Magnussen. The price he had on your head....it would have been enough to have him put to prison!”_ _ _ _

____“No” Sherlock shook his head: “He was much too clever to leave a trail that could be used in court and my shooting Magnussen...well that was my 11th big mistake...that there were not vaults under Appledore. That the vaults were just like my mind-palace...So...to protect you and your baby...and thereby Mary too, I had to remove the threat against your domestic life with mum and dad and baby...so I shot Magnussen. My own life didn’t matter that much. Your happiness everything!”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock rose and sat in Johns lap and took John’s head between his hands and now he kissed John’s forehead: “I now realize that that was my 12th mistake....the full dozen of them......to assume that that was what you wanted. Again I had done what I had accused so many people of: I had seen but not observed.....and I didn’t observe until today!”_ _ _ _

____“I never thought that you would do such relationships...you had told me you were married to your work” protested John._ _ _ _

____“Well...we had just met as I claimed that....and I divorced “her” long ago” said Sherlock._ _ _ _

____“When?”_ _ _ _

____“Before I jumped...remember?...I was slandered! And actually lost my job.”_ _ _ _

____John smiled now: “In that case: I’m free on the market....would you like to be in a sexual relationship with me?”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock’s smile faded:” I’m sorry...I do love you.....but a sexual relationship? I can’t....I’m sorry! I can’t do this to you!”_ _ _ _


	6. More confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Only a short chapter this time ___

John stuttered: “What ....what the hell do you mean by that?! Is it because you are afraid of sex?...Is it?....because in that case...I’m sorry...I...”

“Oh, John...I haven’t been a virgin since I was 16...but it is not always everything a big brother should now.....No it is because I do not want to harm you. I love you too much.....I’m an addictive personality. I do nothing by halves.....whether it was a dog, drugs, sex or solving mysteries. I’m a dangerous man, John....I would consume you!”

“Utterly bullshit, Sherlock. You have never been able to force me to do anything I didn’t want to do...well besides watching you fall from that bloody roof. I’m a dangerous man too, Sherlock! And if you do remember....I’ve been able to force you more than a couple of times too. So...I do not buy that excuse! I’m still interested!”

Sherlock was now sitting on the couch besides John with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His hands ruffling through his hair....and he looked a moment bewildered at his left hand as he felt moisture on it and saw the blood. He had re-opened his wound on his head. When he saw that it wasn’t that much he just shrug his shoulders....and John decided not to interfere.....it was not the right moment. So he waited.

Sherlock turned a bit so he could face John. And he reached for John’s hands and John did put his hands in Sherlock’s....to show that he trusted him. Sherlock looked down at their hands and caressed John’s hands with his thumbs and said: “You must know, John......that my sexual taste isn’t exactly...”vanilla”.....I’m not normal!”

John answered: “Well, well the framework for normality is not exactly narrow.....so....do you fuck corpses? Molest children? Or do you like to eat scat or drink piss? Or slice people to pieces and eat them? I think they would be my hard limits!”

Sherlock looked up with a frown: “Oh God... no!!! No....but I’m a masochist....I need the pain to soothe my mind sometimes. I need the submission to shut down my overworking brain, when it just goes on and on and on and I can’t stop deducing, noticing. I can’t even get a proper orgasm without some amount of pain...I’m a freak!”

John took a firm grip at Sherlock’s hands as he was about to take them away: “Now you listen to me, William Sherlock Scott Holmes and you listen very carefully! Being a masochist...or a sadist......being submissive or dominant.....it is most certainly not being a “freak”. It is the way your body...and mind....work! As I said, the framework for normality is rather loose-fitting. As long as it is between two adults.....and it is safe, sane and consensual...I see no problem!”

Sherlock looked up in awe...John never stopped surprising him: “You don’t?!”

But then he looked down again: “That is not all....I....I’m not alone a masochist and submissive...sometimes I.....I...have sadistic tendencies too...and dominant behaviour!”

Now John actually giggled: “You could have fooled me, Sherlock. That part....I would never have guessed!!” And the sarcasm in his voice was so thick that you could walk on it. He continued:  
“Well....do you have more to confess: ladies lingerie? Raincoats and gas-masks? Wearing socks under sexual intercourse?...Actually Sherlock, until now I haven’t heard a thing that would repulse me. We’ll just have to find out about our limits.....and there would be things that I not would do to you. Things that would leave scars...you have enough....and there are things that I do not want you to do to me. I have my hard limits! And I have had pain enough as I healed. We’ll just have to figure out what to do!”

While John had been talking, Sherlock had moved and was kneeling in front of John with his head in John’s lap. Not one single moment had he let go of John’s hands: “Thank you” he murmured over and over again.

John did let Sherlock do that for a while and then he said in his Captain Watson voice: “Enough!” and Sherlock stopped and looked up at John through his eyelashes....and John’s cock found that very interesting and that half-erection that John had had all the time they had been sitting on that couch in close proximity...finally!....to Sherlock, well it was a full one now!

Sherlock saw it and smirked: “Well haven’t you and I waited long enough for each other? My bedroom now?"

John frowned a bit: “Your back?”

“As if I would care John. A bit of pain would only spark my arousal!”

And as Sherlock rose John could see a very insistent erection in Sherlock’s pyjama trousers as Sherlock said: “I’ve had a semi-hard on since you tended to my wounds....not because of the pain....but because of your hands. Come!”

And the two men hurried towards Sherlock’s bedroom as John thought: “Thank God I changed the linen!”


	7. How do we proceed from here?

In the bedroom, that was rather dark because of the curtains not yet had been drawn away, the two men began kissing each other.....deep kisses that made both moan. But finally they did let go of each other and moved a bit away from each other, still holding hands and then John said:

”Just as much as I...Oh God...I’ve longed for it for such a long time....would like....would dream of.....would give my right arm for having sex with you, Sherlock.....I do not know enough about BDSM to give you what you might need.....we have no safe-word.....and I totally would refuse to use that old riding crop on you....especially because I lack practice!”

Sherlock smiled back: “I do not always have those needs. Right now vanilla-flavour would suit me fine!” and with those words he began to undress John: “May I?” he had asked as he began.

Finally John was almost naked....freed of his socks, jeans, shirt and sweater...as he had managed to be fully dressed in the morning after he had hurried down the stairs because Sherlock was having a nightmare. Sherlock was only in his pyjama-bottoms, an old T-shirt and his beige morning gown and those garments were easy to remove. As was John’s pants.  
And then they were finally there......both stark naked and with proud erections. Both John and Sherlock noticed that the other man preferred to have shaved genitals, except from a groomed tuft at the root of their cocks. John’s blond, almost golden with specks of grey....just like the hair on his head and Sherlock’s the same dark brown, almost black colour as the hair on his head. It made a stunning contrast to the paleness of his skin. But then John noticed something....an uncertainty in Sherlock’s expression.

“What is wrong, Sherlock?”

“Please, John....don’t look so much at be. I know it is just transport......but I’m not a pretty sight...so can’t we just turn off the light and crawl under the duvet?”

“Not a pretty sight?! What the hell are you talking about?” said John, but he still did as Sherlock asked and crawled under the duvet where they were facing each other...but not yet touching. 

John reached out and touched Sherlock’s face....even if there were other places he would like to touch too!

“Sherlock....you must know that I....even if I didn’t want to react on it...even denied my own feelings.....find that you are the most handsome man I ever met! Even from the first day I found you strikingly handsome!”

And as Sherlock tried to say something John put his finger on Sherlock’s mouth: “Schh...you are! Your looks are striking....You must have noticed that both men and women look at you more than once....and that you, if you turn up charm, can make people do a lot for you. Remember Janine?”

But Sherlock answered: “Nonsense John...I do have eyes in my head: I’m too pale, too thin. You can cut cucumbers on my cheekbones. My chin is too weak and my mouth too feminine......I look like the outcome of a party for cousins that didn’t stop in time.....too inbreed! And I’m filled with scars! You on the other hand...” and now Sherlock reached out and touched John’s face gently: “You are like Leonardo de Vinci’s Vetruvian man! Not tall and lanky like me, but with perfect proportions. And you shine....like gold, and ....warmth. You are strong...and yet gentle...well most of the time.....and you are truly fascinating. You never stop to amaze me.....I can truly understand why Mary wanted you!”

John answered back: “Well the old saying: “Love is blind” must really work when you look at me.....I’m all right....but not strikingly handsome as you, Sherlock. I’m not.....and for God’s sake...Sherlock....look in a mirror! Yes right now you are a tad too thin.....but you look like that freaking marble statue of Michelangelo....that “David”! Look!”

And John dragged Sherlock out of the bed and placed him in front of the mirror: “Stay there!”

And Sherlock just obeyed as John hurried to the living room to fetch his laptop that he had left there the evening before. As he entered the bed-room again, he carried the laptop and placed it on the bed while he continued talking. And then he placed it on the floor besides the mirror: “I know that you are sort of vain when it comes to your clothes...your shirts and suits.....and your tailor makes a great job to conceal your muscles....and I suppose it is on purpose...but look Sherlock.....look dammit! If I went to that museum and painted the hair on that statue black...I would be looking at you!” 

And John shoved Sherlock the statue on the screen....and yes...if Sherlock did gain a bit more muscles....just like he had had, dressed only in a sheet at Buckingham’s.....well even Sherlock could see the similarity.

Then Sherlock smirked and pointed at the picture of David’s head: “That is not how I look....my eyes are a lot smaller and my nose too.....” and then he pointed of the groin of the figure and said: “Well....and my penis is bigger!”

John laughed and said...with a glance at aforementioned part of Sherlock’s body, that had gone a bit more flaccid since they entered the bedroom: “It is a symbolic statue.....and the eyes are so big because you are standing on the floor and the damned head is 17 feet or more above the floor. Made smaller ...and you wouldn’t see them.....and his cock is too small because you can actually stand on the floor and look straight up his groin!”

John moved and now stood behind Sherlock, who was facing the mirror: “I know, Sherlock....even the fanciest of models only see their flaws and failures and seldom understand why people find them beautiful.....But you are. Your paleness makes a beautiful contrast to the darkness of your hair and the red of your lips...”

“You make me sound like “Snow White”” said Sherlock with a smirk.... in his deep voice that John was sure would be enough to make him come.....if Sherlock would use the right words!

“Yeah...I could hear that” John smirked back: “But it is striking....and your eyes.....they change colours all the time...they are beautiful. Your face.. seen in bits and pieces... is maybe nothing special....but put them together..Strikingly handsome! And not to mention your body....surprisingly muscular behind those clothes that make you look almost thin and fragile....but you are not. And I don’t care about your scars....well I do feel extremely guilty about the two scars that my traitorous “wife” gave you! And the ones on your back that I made worse. But the rest...” and now John gently touched each and one of them, being very careful about the new wounds that were covered with patches: “every one of those scars is a reminder of your bravery, your selflessness, your sacrifices....they are medals of honour....just like you use to say about my scar. Nothing less!”

And finally John carefully kissed the most prominent of the scars from Serbia....the one on Sherlock’s right shoulder.

Sherlock turned around and took John’s head between his hands: “You never cease to amaze me, John Watson. You are my guideline.....my sun...and I’m just a humble planet in orbit around you! See...I do remember the mechanics in the solar system by now!”

John laughed: “You git.....and you use it to seduce me!”

Sherlock smirked again: “Do I have to?”

“No! But sit down on the bed. We’ll have to talk...about what we need for now and want to do.....I do not want to overstep some lines right now... That idiot who left those scars on your buttocks must have done that.....maybe in the heat of the arousal....but the scars are not of the same age so: first time is an accident, 2nd time is coincidence, but 3rd time is a pattern. And I most certainly don’t want to add more!”

They sat down on the bed and Sherlock explained: “Well...it was at the university. To put it short: his name was Victor....and we ended up in a relationship...sort of. He was very masculine. Just like you are, John, but taller....and only interested in one aspect of my sexuality...the masochistic and submissive Sherlock. And I was “William” then. And it was...good...and fulfilling...and awesome......and terrible! Because he would never allow me to be the “switch” I am too. And sometimes he would not accept my safe-word....and told me that he knew best what I needed. Sometimes he was sort of right....I would safe-word out if I was busy with an experiment or just didn’t feel like having sex. And if he continued despite my safe-word, I would, despite my refusal before, get the orgasm I needed anyway. Finally I had enough....because he became more and more violent against me.....and as you said “first time is an accident, 2nd time is coincidence, but third time is a pattern”......and I left him and the university in the middle of the night with bleeding buttocks under my clothes. We had shared rooms, so he had all my belongings and he burned all of it......Mycroft dealt with him later. Had him expelled from university and sent to USA. He died in a car-crash a few years later.....Not Mycroft’s work!” said Sherlock with a quick glance at John.

“I’m glad he is dead” said John with flaming eyes: “or else I’m afraid that I would have found him and beaten the shit out of him! How did he dare! That was not sane, safe or consensual....that was abusive!”

“But it is over now....and many years ago” said Sherlock and put his hands over John’s clenched fists.

John took a deep breath: “Yeah...I’m still glad he is gone. But how did you manage your “needs” after that. I don’t suppose you have lived in celibacy since?”'

Sherlock looked at John and decided that the time for “Elephants” had ended...if their relationship should stand a chance: “Well...there are....certain clubs here in London....that even Mycroft do not know anything about. I’m a member of two....depending on my needs. In one of them they only know the dominant and sadistic me and in the other one only the submissive and masochistic me. In 9 out of ten times...or even more...I visit the second club. Not so much after I returned after .....Serbia.... and....”

Now it was “Doctor” Watson, who was curious: “How often do you need to go?”

“You still don’t feel repulsed?!”

“For God’s sake Sherlock...we have established that I do not feel repulsed by this...actually a bit interested.....not to say a lot! I just want to know what to do, when to do it and how to do it the right way!”

“Well. It depends...Do you remember an incident...or several where you had hidden my cigarettes and I had nothing else stashed....and it is/was only very seldom that I had to “use”. Yes I know I promised, but I can tell you that it was only in the utmost need that I would “use”.....and it was only about once a year! But sometimes when I had honed my mind...tuned it...to be able to solve a case...then I couldn’t turn it down again. I was like a machine running wild!”

“I remember” said John and remembered how Sherlock had behaved like a blue-arsed fly in a bottle.

“In the night I sneaked out ...thank God you sometimes are a deep sleeper, John and when I returned it was with welts on my back and buttocks.....and peace in my mind.”

“Well....maybe since they apparently know your needs, it would be a good idea if we visited them and they told me about you?” asked John.

“Would you really do that for me, John?” Sherlock asked as if he really couldn’t believe it.

Now John smiled: “Anything to prevent you from being such a blue-arsed fly in a bottle again!! And since it is now established.....what do we do now?”

“Well..” answered Sherlock: “I suppose by your words and by the way you have reacted, that you wouldn’t mind a submissive version of me. But notice...it will only be in our bedrooms...preferably mine...or should I say “our” by now? Not outside this room or outside our flat....There I will be as dominant as ever. I do not always have to have my masochistic tendencies fulfilled....That is.... today... I wouldn’t mind a bit of ordering around...or even a bit of a spanking or pinched nipples...but nothing more!”

As John heard Sherlock describe his wishes, he felt as if all his blood left his brain and ended in his cock. He hadn’t had such a fast or hard erection for years.....but he could do it....being dominant even with his brain half off-line. It was just a question of old habits.....and “Doctor” Watson disappeared and “Captain” Watson emerged: “Well...private Holmes. Down on your knees in front of me!” he barked.

And Sherlock’s cock immediately found that version of John very interesting.....and Sherlock felt a shiver run through his body...Oh yes...this was going to be good! And he hurried to kneel in front of John who was sitting with his legs spread on the edge of the bed. Sherlock’s head was bowed...and he felt the anxiety he had felt about the scars and his body melt away....even the pain from the beating the night before disappeared. He was almost floating....and that just by being ordered around. He didn’t have to think...to deduce. All he had to do was to obey John.

“Yes, master” Sherlock said happily.


	8. Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter include BDSM-sex.....but it is sane, safe and consensual. Just be warned if it triggers something. ___

John slipped out of his role and touched Sherlock carefully. He had noticed that Sherlock slurred a bit...and knew enough about “subspace” to realise that Sherlock probably was on his way into it.

He took Sherlock’s head between his hands and kissed Sherlock on his forehead: “Love, Sherlock....listen. You are not a slave...and I do not own you. Hell...this is more about your needs than mine....even it I would not say no to a blowjob. But you can call me my name or “sir” or even “captain”...if we should play a role-play....and I was me who started it, I know. And the usual “green”, “yellow” or “red” could prove themselves useful as safe-words. But forget that arse Victor, whom I suppose to have insisted on you calling him “master”.....do you hear me, Sherlock?”

And Sherlock’s eyes which had been a bit “clouded” as John began to speak was clear and present again: “Yes....I get it John. “Sir” or “captain”....if we stay in the role-play that you initiated with your “Private Holmes”...not that I mind that at all! And the three usual colours as safe-words! Until I’ve thought of a better one.”

John began to chuckle and Sherlock asked: “What?!”

John had tears of laughter in his eyes now and could barely talk: “Oh God, Sherlock....I....I just imagined which word would make us both stop immediately.....and it is so inappropriate!”

Sherlock smirked: “You thought of “Mycroft”!

“Yeah....how did you know?”

“It came into my mind too!”

And now the two men were hauling of laughter, clinging to each other....John still sitting on the bed and Sherlock kneeling between his legs.  
Finally they both stopped....but still with small bursts of giggling and as they caught each other’s eyes again...they were lost in the laughter once again.  
________________  
Sherlock was still kneeling but had put his head on John’s left thigh and began to caress John’s cock, inner-thigh and balls.....long slow feather-like strokes: “You know, John...Victor never laughed with me.” and Sherlock lifted his head and looked at John and said in his incredible deep voice:....”captain!”

John did lean back on his arms....not giving a damn if his shoulder would hurt later, slipping into his role again: “Well, private....as you see, your superior do have a problem. Take care of it in an orderly manner, private! If I’m satisfied you’ll get rewarded...if not, you’ll be punished!”

“Yes sir” said Sherlock and began to satisfy his “captains” needs.

John closed his eyes and enjoyed the feelings, but he soon decided to open his eyes to enjoy the sight too....and it almost made him come on the spot: to see Sherlock’s curly head bobbing up and down, to hear his satisfied hum as he deep-throated John’s cock...so deep that he had his nose buried in John’s pubic hair at some point.....the feeling of Sherlock’s throat around his cock.....didn’t Sherlock have a gag-reflex at all?...John grappled after Sherlock’s hair......not to pull it but to warn him that he was close......John could only stutter: “Sherlock...I....I.....”and then he saw stars and the strange floating feeling that followed as an orgasm starts followed and did build up...and up and he came in the best orgasm he had had for years.

When he came to his senses Sherlock was still on his knees in front of him and removed a bit of semen from the corner of his mouth with his tongue....oh God...that tongue and that mouth and Sherlock smirked: “Was it satisfying enough or......will I get punished?”...The last part said with so much hope in his voice that John began to laugh.

“Well, Sherlock...it would be a bit difficult to punish you...if I wanted to do that...Or would it be a punishment _not _to do it, hm?”__

__Sherlock smiled back: “Victor often accused me of “topping from the bottom”..._ _

__“And we have established that he was an arse.....so what do you want me to do? And remember...you do have wounds....and I most certainly do not want to make them worse!”_ _

__Sherlock stretched out besides John on his back on the bed with his arms over his head, gripping the headboard of his bed.....and then he turned his head and looked at the solid wood there: “We’ll have to attach some hooks or eyelets...or else you wouldn’t be able to restrain me....and at the foot-board too!” And John could only shake his head over his mad hatter of a beautiful flatmate...just like the rest of their life, their sex-life would be rather unusual....not that he would mind....his cock was already semi-interested again.....and for God’s sake...he wasn’t 20 any more!!!_ _

__He rose and took the belts from the old blue morning gown and the one from the beige one: “I’ll have to be creative with these then.....and even I it is ages ago since I gave a blow-job last time, I think I still can remember a trick or two Sherlock....but how anyone could believe that you were a virgin...well that puzzles me!”_ _

__________________________  
Sherlock’s body was covered with a thin layer of sweat.....and he was shivering....of endorphins, oxytocins, adrenaline and prolactine. He was floating.....and no longer moaning, but more making small sounds like a cat’s meowing.....and actually purring....and it was the hottest thing John had ever heard. John had tried first to satisfy Sherlock without pain at all....or just the pain from laying on his wounded back....but even if John’s manhandling and ordering around of Sherlock and the makeshift restraints that went behind the headboard of the bed and just barely kept Sherlock’s hands tethered.... had already made Sherlock descending into subspace, John observed that Sherlock needed just the last thing to get him over the edge.....and John being a doctor could be quite creative, so he had found the belt from the red morning gown too and had forced Sherlock’s balls down before they were too drawn up against the body and had...carefully... wound the burgundy silk around them making sure that Sherlock couldn’t have an orgasm before they were removed...or at least make it difficult. John had gone to the bath room at fetched some clothes-pegs. He knew that they would hurt....even more when they were removed....but they would not make any damage if they were not left on for too long. And he had placed them at Sherlock’s nipples.....and first then he began again on his blowjob on Sherlock. At first as Sherlock didn’t achieve an orgasm, John had felt disappointed, since Sherlock obviously enjoyed John’s actions immensely.....but then John had reached up and pinched Sherlock’s left nipple...hard....and with the nail.....and Sherlock had moaned and ejaculated so hard that he did hit his own face. Strangely enough his erection didn’t falter and then John had fetched the clothes-pins and the burgundy belt._ _

__Sherlock was not moving and his eyes were closed.....and he had an expression on his face of ecstasy......looking like a fallen angel...._ _

__John removed the belt and took of the clothes-pins in one swift movement and Sherlock bucked and moaned again...his eyes opening...and he had his 3rd orgasm. The sight was enough to bring John to his 2nd with just a few strokes._ _

__John removed Sherlock’s hands from the belts at the head-board and massaged Sherlock’s arms as he gently moved them into a position besides Sherlock’s body.....He turned Sherlock a bit on the side and positioned himself behind Sherlock. Surprisingly did they fit nicely together even if John was “the big spoon” and like that they both drifted into sleep._ _

__Sherlock was conscious enough but sort of in subspace still, but he was safe and with John so he didn’t bother to “break the surface yet”._ _

__“I’ll change the linen tomorrow” was the last thing John thought before he fell asleep too._ _


	9. Shower

It was late in the afternoon before both men woke up. 

John thought that he easily could get used to waking up besides Sherlock, who had draped himself over John from behind and now was the “big spoon”.....and being even more awake John felt a pang of guilt....how he had enjoyed treating Sherlock like that......having a submissive Sherlock to deep-throat his cock. It had been the best sexual experience for years....if not for ever...and Sherlock had wanted it.....but never the less...it made John feel guilty.

He could feel that Sherlock moved and he turned so he could look into Sherlock’s face: “Morning love....or rather “late afternoon”........I’m starving. Should I order something?” John asked.

And thought to himself: “Yeah...John Watson....order someone to remove the big elephant you have just put into the room again!....but he didn’t say anything.  
“Mmmm...”afternoon” then John.....and a “I’m sorry” offered!”

“Why on Earth that?!”

“Because I had said “vanilla”......and it didn’t turn out that way....You must know...Victor always accused me of “topping from the bottom”, as I mentioned before.”

John moved so he could take Sherlock’s face between his hands...even if his shoulder was a bit sore: “Now you listen to me...and you listen very carefully, Sherlock. I. Didn’t. Mind.......actually it was the best sexual act I’ve had for years......no actually... the best one forever! You can top from the bottom so much you like....This was about your needs.....not mine...and that I got the best mind-fucking sex as a bonus....well...I’ll be happy to repeat that every moment......I love you Sherlock and I’ll try everything in my power to show it! You have done so much for me....I’ll just try to pay you a little part of that back!”

Sherlock moved and kissed John gently: “I’ll more than happy to repeat that too...but later. If I don’t extract myself from the bed now....I’m going to make a disaster in bed!”

And in one swift movement that didn’t show that he actually was quite sore still, he was out of bed and went into the bathroom. 

John remained in the bed....and wondered how Sherlock managed to 1: move around so elegantly...like a feline animal...all grace and controlled movements despite being in pain...and he had to be with those wounds.....and 2: make taking a morning-leak sound so sexy? And John’s thoughts wandered.....maybe it was because John imagined how Sherlock would stand there...strong-bodied and totally starkers...drawing the prepuce back on his lovely cock before he began to pee....and John’s mouth almost watered when he thought of the feeling of Sherlock’s cock on his tongue and down his throat.....the way Sherlock tasted....the musk of Sherlock’s most intimate places.....And John touched his own erection and moaned a bit.....How could Sherlock turn him so much on?

He decided that he needed a morning leak too and went out into the bathroom. Sherlock was now standing at the washbasin and was brushing his teeth....and when he saw John’s ...well actually it couldn’t be called a “morning-wood” as it was in the afternoon....but it felt like morning.....Sherlock quickly rinsed his mouth and said in his deep voice and with a smirk: “If you will allow me, captain, I’ll take care of your problem as soon as you have taken care of your other needs!” 

Hearing Sherlock saying that with that voice of his didn’t make it easier for John to make his erection fade so much that he actually would be able to pee properly, so John sighed and went to the shower: “You git....you knew that that voice of yours would do this to me, didn’t you? And now I’ll have to pee in the shower!” John said as he went into the stall and turned on the water so he could relieve himself.....the only possibility left when an erection would make it nearly impossible to pee.

Sherlock looked at the shower-curtain....John hadn’t been really angry...had he?

“May I enter, John?” asked Sherlock carefully...slipping out of the role: “I would so much like to have a shower too!”

“Well..of course...what is stopping you?”

“Well...first because my bandages would get wet, second because I’m not sure you wanted me in there with you...”

John looked out of the stall, just moving the curtain a bit so he would not release the steam: “Why should I not want you in here with me?”

Sherlock looked down....he suddenly looked so much younger: “You sounded angry.....”

John moved his arm, grappled Sherlock’s hand and dragged him into the shower-stall with him: “I wasn’t angry.....I would never be angry with you because of such a trifle.....Oh God, Sherlock......that nightmare of yours must still be with you.....or maybe it is the memory of that arse Victor....Let me take care of you....hmm? Is it all right?”

Sherlock closed his eyes and enjoyed the water and the proximity of John...his John....finally here at Baker Street. No more Mary....and no Watson-baby.....that even turned out not to be John’s at all....Just the two of them....against the world....and now even the sexual relationship too. How would he ever be able to cope without John any more?

Sherlock almost hummed as he felt John’s gentle and yet firm hands on his back. John was gently checking his bandages.

“Are they fine?” Sherlock asked.

“Couldn’t be better” said John and kissed Sherlock’s back a place he could find, without scars or bandages.


	10. Orders

But soon John realised that just taking care of Sherlock wouldn’t be enough....his erection, which had faded a bit was now on full mast again.....and so was Sherlock’s. John felt a bit like having a devil inside as he gave in to his own urges and ordered Sherlock out of the stall and on to the floor as soon as they both were clean and Sherlock’s hair had been carefully washed and they had dried themselves.

John had turned around to turn off the water and as he left the stall, he saw Sherlock kneeling on the bathroom floor on the mat and several towels...obedient and just waiting.....and oh God how it went into John’s cock immediately. What he wanted to do to Sherlock when he was positioned like that...and had healed! John wasn’t sure that he actually liked that side of himself....being sadistic and dominating....but frankly....he didn’t give a damn right now!!

He knelt down behind Sherlock: “Down on your elbows, Private Holmes. Arse up in the air.....I’m going to fuck you...is that understood?”

And Sherlock could only breathe: “Yes, SIR!” ...oh God.....he liked it when John ordered him around like that!

John carefully dripped some of the lubrication he luckily...and by purely guessing.... had found in Sherlock’s nightstand and had brought out into the bathroom before he had got there himself earlier...on his fingers and gently he touched Sherlock’s orifice between his buttocks and Sherlock moaned a bit.

“Colour, Private?”

“Green, sir!”

And John began meticulously to open Sherlock. John had only tried that in a sexual fashion one time before, and that with a woman, but he had had to do it to examine fellow soldiers with fissures or other damages because of all the blasted little insects in the Afghan dessert that could make more soldiers unsuitable for war that the war itself. Insects that would lay eggs in human skin-wrinkles...all over the body, but preferably in the groin-area and most of all close to the anus and inside....just like the sheep flies would do to sheep. But John had never anticipated that it would turn him so much on to do it to Sherlock. And soon...within seconds....he forgot all about it being a bit like a medical examination!

John Watson loved the female body...the softness...the full breasts, small or big.. with the nipples that would harden under his palms.....and the softness and the fullness of the female behind...but having Sherlock lying obediently waiting for John....with his surprisingly plump arse.....muscular and round and delicious.....up in the air...for John to use as he would please....well that could almost make John come on the spot. 

Sherlock was so much male....so masculine...but he was, seen from this angle, hairless as a child. Even if there was not much “child” over the heaviness of his hairless balls hanging between his legs or the size of his cock, already dripping with pre-come. Most people would have rather dark pigmentation in the groin-area. But Sherlock was so pale that his pigmentation was only a few shades darker than his skin-tone...a rose/beige and very delicious colour. And for John....to see his fingers...now 3 of them disappearing up into Sherlock’s pliant body and to hear Sherlock moan like that ...that made John moan too....and then he did something that surprised even himself....

He had first cautiously tasted his own fingers....no... the lubricant was almost tasteless.....and he knew that Sherlock was meticulous when it came to his personal hygiene...and they had just had a bath...So John took a firm grip at Sherlock’s buttocks.....spread them wide and kissed Sherlock’s fluttering opening and pushed his tongue a bit inside...  
Sherlock moaned even more and then he turned around...out of his role: “Did you just kiss my anus, John?!”

But John stayed in his role: “Private! Colour?”

And Sherlock slipped into his role again and could only moan: “Green! Sir! Definitely green!”

And John continued kissing and licking Sherlock’s anus-opening....making Sherlock a total mess. John was actually fucking Sherlock with his tongue.....and it was the most amazing thing John had ever done to anyone. He had to admit that he liked the power he had in bed.....even when he had been fucking women...and even Mary, before he found out who and what she was. In bed he had the upper hand and he had been able to make her beg for the pleasure, he could give....and he had enjoyed it immensely...just as he did now with Sherlock. 

But right now in this moment it was different....not just because Sherlock was a male...but because he was so much a male...so strong and most of the time so confident....and now John Watson had made him a quivering mess. So John focused on this one spot in the universe...his tongue moving in and out of Sherlock’s anus......and Sherlock was trembling under his hands, which...if John had to be totally honest with himself....had a bit too firm grip on Sherlock’s wounded buttocks....not that it seemed to bother Sherlock. He too was only teetered to this reality by those single points of connection between him and John. The faint throbbing pain in his buttocks and the feeling at his anus....and it was exquisite.....and overwhelming.....and the most intense feeling Sherlock had ever had. Better than being high on illegal substances...or pain alone.

“Red...sir! Red! Unless.... you want me..... to come without.... permission!” Sherlock suddenly stuttered.

And John stopped immediately....but took a firm grip around the base of Sherlock’s cock....and his own... as he leaned most of his bodyweight on Sherlock’s behind. He closed his eyes and had to fight hard not to come. Amazing that Sherlock would allow him to decide over his orgasms!

The two men were panting for a while and the “danger” subsided. John bent a bit forward and almost growled in Sherlock’s ear: “I want to fuck you right now....slowly....until you beg me to allow you to come......if you fail...I’ll punish you!”

Now Sherlock slipped a bit out of his role and turned his head a bit and smirked: “Caning me?”

And the thought made John gasp: “Oh...God..yes!!! as he closed his eyes and tried to push his impending orgasm away.

Sherlock stayed a bit out of his role again and said: “We do not need condoms.....I’m clean...and you are...” and his voice dropped even deeper as he said: “And I want you inside me....and I want you to mark me......to feel your searing hot semen in me....and I want you to fetch that butt-plug of mine in the nightstand and fill me up afterwards so I keep “you” inside me.....and I want to wear it all the time when we eat and watch telly.....and I’ll be a bit sore and so ready for you again!... Captain!”

It was only John’s immense will-power that prevented him from coming on the spot....oh God...Sherlock’s voice....pure sex! Sherlock could read the telephone book aloud and John would be able to come from that alone!

John hurried to the bedroom and fetched the buttplug....if he had only known that Sherlock used such an item!

Coming back into the bathroom again John couldn’t wait any longer. He put some more lubricant on his cock. He could not remember being so turned on ever....not even as he had been at his most hormonal teenage-years.....and he pushed his cock into the welcoming warmth and tightness of the willing Sherlock......Oh God...it was so good...so fulfilling......finally to be there!

John only managed a few trusts before the orgasm was unstoppable, but he managed to growl: “Come for me, Sherlock” and the spasms of Sherlock’s inside just prolonged Johns own orgasm...almost milking him totally empty. They both stumbled down together on the pile of towels and lied there panting.

“That was...amazing!” said John...and began to giggle as he remembered that that were the exact words he had used when he had met Sherlock so many years ago: “Amazing”....but that was what Sherlock was.....amazing. Not only his mind....but his heart and body too. A perfect specimen!

John was driven out of his thoughts as Sherlock...well...actually ordered: “The butt-plug, John!”

And John could already feel the stir in his groin area as he nudged the rather big butt-plug into Sherlock’s well-fucked arse....an apparently Sherlock liked it very much too...as he moaned.  
______________________  
They took another quick shower. John did cast yet another eye on Sherlock’s bandages...especially those on Sherlock’s buttocks....but everything was looking good and fine and finally the two men found themselves on the couch eating delivered Chinese take-away. Both of them only wearing pyjamas and gowns.


	11. We need to talk

When he had finished eating, John put down the boxes on the coffee-table and turned towards Sherlock: “We agreed on “no elephants”.....and...and.. I have a big one to remove! We need to talk!”

Sherlock looked worried at John....was that the moment where John would tell him that he...heterosexual John...would have second thoughts?

He too put the nearly empty box down on the table and turned more towards John: “Yes?”

And John, who actually could be rather observant when it came to Sherlock, saw the beginning of panic in Sherlock’s eyes: “Oh...don’t worry, Love.....it is not something you are or have done...it is me!”

But Sherlock had heard that before...not with Victor....but with others....at the university. The phrase: “It is not you...it is me” and soon followed by: “I can’t do that.....” and a few more empty sentences that all would sum up to: “we can’t continue like this....”...and then people would leave...again.

Sherlock swallowed and closed his eyes: “I see...”...No, he wouldn’t beg. If he could not be what John wanted, he would have to allow him to leave. It had been too good to be true!

And John suddenly understood that Sherlock had experienced rejection far too many times before....and now he thought that John would reject him too!

“Oh God Sherlock...I’ve told you. You’ll have to throw me out to make me leave you! Come!”

And John sat back against the back of the couch and padded his thigh and Sherlock gracefully....almost like a cat...curled his long body up besides John and put his head in John’s lap. And John began...absent-mindedly... to caress Sherlock’s hair and scalp.

“It is just....I liked it too much...you being on your knees for me. You being submissive!”

John took a deep breath and continued: “The things I want to do to you! To mark your white skin with a riding-crop...a cane.....a flogger. To have you beg.....to control you. To tie you to the bed in various positions...to use spreader-bars.....and nipple-clamps. To have you writhe under my hands....to see you flushed and becoming pliant and desperate because of what I do to you.....and at the same time knowing that it is what you want....what you crave....what you need.....and what you would enjoy immensely. Well that is a wet dream come true! But...and here is the elephant! What if I can’t stop in time? What if I harm you? If you are in some restraints, you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself.....And I would be another abuser....repeating what those tugs did to you in Serbia....what Victor did to you! And I love you too much to allow myself to harm you!”

Again Sherlock had moved with that feline grace and was actually sitting in John’s lap with his lanky legs on each side of John’s and took John’s head in his hands: “But that is exactly the difference, John....don’t you see? You said it yourself: You love me too much to harm me! I trust you with my life, John!”

“But Sherlock....what if the sadistic side of me....and it scares me like hell!.....gets too much? What if I can’t control myself, like when you returned and I did beat the hell out of you?”

“Nonsense, John...I’ve never met a man so much in control of himself....and besides...when I returned I allowed you to harm me...because I felt I deserved it. I’m capable of defending myself!”

“Not if you are in restraints...dammit!!” John was almost shouting.

Sherlock looked at him for a few seconds...finally understanding: “You are afraid that this sadistic side of you, that you most of the time have denied alongside your homosexuality...that it would get the better of you...and that you will not be able to control yourself.....not obeying safe-words.....and that I would be helpless....being restrained? Is that it?”

“Yes!” was everything John was able to say.

Now Sherlock moved again and actually knelt in front of John who now had put his head in his hands as he said: ”Sherlock....I.... I have to be honest with myself...finally....That you are my “wet dream come true”, Sherlock,......everything I’ve ever dreamt of...in my darkest fantasies that I have never even admitted to myself until now......But.....”

“But I’m not a woman...”said Sherlock.

John looked up: “That is exactly my point. You do not have to! You are not some kind of substitute, because I can’t find a suitable woman. All my adult life I’ve searched for someone like you...and I didn’t even know that and I didn’t know that I had found it...and I threw it away when I could have had it, as you returned! That dark side in me wants to control, to dominate a strong, confident being.....like you, Sherlock. It is a bit like controlling a horse...it is stronger and bigger than you...and yet you are in control! You are strong and dangerous....I think even more dangerous than me.....and yet you’ll allow me to control you....totally. What a confidence in me....and I’m afraid that I can’t live up to that!!”

Sherlock smiled at John....and he had wanted to make a comment of John’s comparison of him to a horse....but refrained from it and said instead: “You can...I’ve never met a man with a stronger moral or principles. Yes, you are dangerous behind your disguise in your woollen jumpers...but that was what I saw the moment we met....and what Mary saw in you too. Don’t tell me that you haven’t faced the demons inside.....those who had whispered as you were lying in the sand looking through the scope of your rifle...”What if I turned around and shot my friends instead of my foes?”...The same voice which talks to you when you are standing on a tall cliff....”What if I jumped?”

John looked at Sherlock: “Was it like that...for you....at Bart’s?”

“No....At Bart’s I could see the net, I was supposed to land in....but it was the voices in my head that told me “give up, Sherlock, take the contents of the next syringe too. Nobody loves you. You are a freak!”...or “give up...stop fighting...there is too much pain”...I’ve had those demons inside too, John. I think we all have....more or less. But we have to face them....take them for what they are....a crazy place in your own brain, that need to be confronted, if we should stay human. Without controlling that, we are beasts....like Magnussen and Moriarty....and so many others. But not you! I wouldn’t hesitate to let you press your loaded gun against my chest! I trust you!” 

Sherlock moved again and sat in John’s lap: “I know that you are trained in close combat.....but despite that....I would be able to defeat you 8 out of 10 times!”

He moved his hands and held them close to John’s neck and moved his hands around on John’s body as he spoke: “Right here...as you of course know...is the “common carotid artery”...and a slight pressure would turn people unconscious. At the back of your neck is a point where I with less pressure that needed for cracking a nut, could paralyse you forever. All over your body are points where I with very little pressure with my bare hands can make you feel unbearable pain.....and yet...you haven’t even flinched a bit as I touched you those places right now! Why should I have less confidence in you, John, than you have in me?”

John reached for Sherlock and kissed him and Sherlock kissed him back and tried to say something....and finally managed: ”If you are still afraid...then we can get restraints that I’ll be able to get out of. I used something like that in the clubs.....my brain just have to forget that I can!”

John kissed him again and said: “Yes...of course. You are brilliant!”  
_________________  
They discussed when they could visit the club, in which Sherlock had been submissive and masochistic....and Sherlock made a phone-call and it was agreed that they could turn up there 2 hours from now.

Sherlock went into the bedroom and said over his shoulder to John: “You better move your things down here. I’ll make room for them in my drawers and in my wardrobe. I suppose we are going to sleep in the same bed in the future!”

But then he came back with a little frown: “I mean...if it is OK with you, John?”

John smiled back: “Of course it is...but thank you for asking anyway!”

Sherlock turned around again and said over his shoulder: “You better get dressed soon. Mycroft would pop by any minute!”

“Mycroft?! Why?” and then John understood: “Oh my God.....cameras! You two have no comprehension of normal privacy...do you?!”

Now Sherlock was back in the living room already dressed in his trousers and a crisp white shirt...looking stunning: “Of course we do...Mycroft does. It is only blurred IR footage. Seldom sounds...most of the time it is turned down....and only Mycroft and one more minion are allowed to watch! Oh my God John...it is not public!”

And he turned around again to fetch his jacket.

The only thing John could do was shaking his head. The thought that his nearly-brother-in-law could actually figure out what they were doing...well he was English enough to find it very embarrassing!

As he rose to go upstairs to get dressed, he...a bit worried....asked Sherlock: “Does your brother know...about your absolutely “non-vanilla” taste in sex? You mentioned that he didn’t know about the clubs? I have most certainly no wish of being accused of being an abuser!”

Sherlock came out from the bedroom and stood leaned against the door-frame....looking like someone from a fashion-magazine: “Past tense....He _knew _not about them. After he got me out of Serbia, he was the first to give me first aid. First in the car and later on the plane....and of course he noticed old scars and asked. He didn’t know about the sort of relationship I had with Victor back then...but I told him on the plane. I had too. You see....I noticed something while he pretended to be that Serbian superior officer....and I confronted him with it as we were back in London.....but before that he had observed something regarding me as he tended to my wounds. I had not had an orgasm for nearly 2 years, John. And knowing that I was safe....and his gentleness as he took care of me....and the pain....well...despite the miserable condition I was in....I sported quite an erection. And of course my observant brother could make the connection. He just noted it....didn’t make any snide remarks. And I confronted him with my observation as we were back in London. He too sported an erection...back in that cellar.....He is a voyeur most of all....But he is a switch too. And despite him knowing that I experienced real torture....well....his brain, body and cock didn’t listen....and he got an erection from the sounds of me being flogged. I accused him of enjoying it...and he later admitted that I was right. And if I can pay him back for saving me...of course without mentioning it at all!...by giving him something to watch, I wouldn’t mind. But of course..if it bothers you?....I can ask him to disconnect the cameras. At least sometimes...They are there for security after all.”__

__John just shook his head...they were mad hatters all 3 of them.....and to his own surprise, he actually found the thought of Mycroft.....composed...distant....and cold Mycroft getting off because of what John did and would do to Sherlock in the future....quite appealing._ _

__“No it is OK, I think.....maybe we should invite him!” And John began to giggle as he imagined Mycroft sitting in a chair in the bedroom in his 3 piece-suit with watch chain and umbrella and everything and only his cock out and a handkerchief to protect his suit, watching them carefully and that he would only utter a small “Oh” as his orgasm would hit him and then he would tuck his cock away and just look at them and walk away with a “thank you!”_ _

__And as he told Sherlock about that picture in his head, he too had a fit of laughter and they had just barely stopped as they heard Mycroft’s steps on the stair._ _


	12. A visit

John hurried upstairs to get dressed and as he came down, Mycroft and Sherlock was in the living room, Sherlock in his chair and Mycroft on the couch and both had a cup of tea in front of them...and a third ...in a mug....was waiting for John at his chair.

“Thank you, Love” John said as he sat down with a nod to Mycroft: “Mycroft.”

“I suppose you would like me to tell you why I came by” said Mycroft as he looked down and removed an imaginary particle of dust from his trousers before he looked up again.

“No” said John.

“No?!” was Mycroft’s a bit surprised question.

“No...because I know!” said John and put his mug away as he leant forward in his chair an turned more against to face Mycroft: “You are here for two reasons: You want to stick your nose into that Sherlock and I have turned our relationship up a notch....that I’m shagging your little brother into the mattress.....and despite him being a grown up, you still think it is your business! More even because it is a BDSM relationship! But I can tell you this....Sherlock is a grown up...and I don’t even know why I’m speaking up for him, as he is fully capable of doing that himself....and I’ll rather shoot myself than harm him in any way.....well.....not more than he wants....and in that case not even that. I’m a doctor, dammit, and I’m going to do this in the safest of manners! I’m not doing anything that I’m ashamed of and it is more about Sherlock’s needs than mine. I owe him so much...so if I can pay him back this way...I’m more than fine with that.....and besides.....It is the best mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had!!”

Mycroft actually flinched a bit.

John took a deep breath and continued: “We are going to one of his clubs, so I can get proper advice! So it is not your business! That you get a boner (and John deliberately used the vulgar word as he knew Mycroft despised it) by watching us....well I can live with that. Besides.....those cameras. Sherlock mentioned something about “for security”......And that is a bit of bullshit, Mycroft. I know that Sherlock has enemies, but that is no reason for having his bedroom...and bathroom bugged!”

Mycroft tried with a: “What about Moriarty!?”

And now John actually laughed: “I’m not a goldfish, Mycroft...You might have deluded the particularly part of the government, that you do not control totally....and I’m sure you had your reasons not to help Sherlock better than you did. And you might even have deluded “Mary”, despite her intelligence. And the rest of London or England for that matter.”

And then John pointed with his finger at Mycroft: “But.Don’t.Think.For.A.Single.Moment.That.I.Didn’t.Figure.It.Out!”

“Elaborate, please” said Mycroft....not yet convinced.

All the way during John’s and Mycroft’s conversation, Sherlock had listened and not uttered a single word....but now he couldn’t control himself anymore. The look on Mycroft’s face!! Sherlock loved his brother and was very thankful for all the help Mycroft had given him...just as Mycroft loved him in return....despite their ongoing banter. But to see Mycroft looking like that! Hilarious! And Sherlock couldn’t help giggling: “Oh God Mycroft...you have underestimated John from the first day!! He is not a goldfish......how could he be that with 2 medical educations and a military one? Go on John, tell Mycroft what you have discovered.....And no, Mycroft....I haven’t said a word!”

John continued: “Moriarty on every screen was your invention, Mycroft. Somehow the only way you had left to keep Sherlock in England. You were able to use every CCTV camera to follow me as we met so many years ago and Sherlock could hack every journalist’s mobile-phones in the case of “A Study in Pink”...so it would not have been so difficult to hack every screen in England. I suppose that you now have dealt with...hm...I think it would have been Magnussen’s accomplices in the government...or at least some other foes of yours. To think that both the House of Lords and the House of Commons have...well I wouldn’t hesitate to call it criminal elements....that is scaring as hell. And if I should speak the truth, Mycroft, I actually prefer that you somehow decide a lot more than any of those members. At least I know that you have a conscience! And how all those politicians could ever forget that Sherlock saved their arses and lives on that November night two years ago, well I couldn’t get my head round that. How could any...anyone at all accept that Sherlock would be sent to his death...and that was what he had been! I can recognize a suicide-mission when I see one, Mycroft!”

Mycroft again tried to avoid John’s eyes and looked down on his meticulously manicured nails and then he looked up: “I deeply apologize for my mistake of underestimating you, John. Yes you are right. Moriarty was my invention...and the invention of a very few selected others. I couldn’t openly show my support to Sherlock. I would have been accused of nepotism. I would have risked my position in the government. I had no choice.....even Sherlock would have to believe that he was sent away....despite his acting abilities. I have apologised so many times, but my hands were tied. But it is in the past now. All the “bad guys” have been removed and the British government should be functioning again...as well as it can be when real politicians have to deal with the “dinosaurs” in the House of Lords!”

As Mycroft said that, Sherlock smirked: “And you are one of them!”

Indignantly Mycroft turned towards Sherlock: “I beg your pardon, brother dear. I might be aristocracy....just like you, if you would care to remember that. But my position, my work is most certainly not inherited, nor was I chosen to be in the government...even in a minor position....because of my title, but because of my skills. Contrary to those “dinosaurs” in the House of Lords who, with a few exceptions, only are there because they possess a title. And as you perfectly well know.....both father and I have always declined the offer of being in that part of the English government. If I had my way we would only have one chamber and that relict from the 18th century would cease to exist!”

John had listened astonished to Mycroft words and now he interrupted: “You...you are aristocracy?!”

Mycroft turned to explain: “Only “country squires”......and our Estate is now a hotel. Father has never lived there and we never use our title. Why should we? We only inherited the title and not a vast sum of money. Both father and mummy have earned their own money....if they hadn’t worked in a proper job, there wouldn’t have been any money left. We pay taxes as well. And the only reason why I am in the procession of a quite a nice sum of money, is because I have invested that small sum I inherited from Grandma wisely. I know we had the privilege of not starting totally at the bottom, and of proper education...even private teachers. But all of that was based on earnestly earned money from a job and not some inherited privilege.”

“Oh...” said John: “So when Sherlock needed a flatmate...it wasn’t a lie.....and the need for me to get a job to earn money, when we hadn’t cases enough...it was necessary too?”

Mycroft now looked at Sherlock, who nodded.

“Well” said Mycroft: “the first part is the absolutely truth as the second part can be questioned a bit. Not in the beginning. The clause in Grandma’s will was rather strict and Sherlock had no access to the money, because in the eyes of the barristers, he didn’t have a proper job. It changed just before he...he... had to leave for 2 years. The exposure in the media finally made them understand that being the world’s only consulting detective was indeed a proper job. The money from Grandma came from France and the French barristers are...if possible...even more conservative than English barristers!”

John looked at Sherlock: “So in reality I do not need to earn that much money now, doing that bloody boring job anymore when we do not have enough well-paid cases?”

Now Sherlock looked a bit embarrassed, because he suddenly understood that John actually might not like his job as a doctor at the clinic.

“I’m sorry, John. But first now in this moment I’ve come to realise that you didn’t need that job, because you wanted to use your skills as a doctor....or to get away from me when I was too much. You took it because you felt that we needed the money. Right?”

“Yes of course!”

Sherlock smirked: “Well in that case...and since we are having sex...and if you don’t mind to be a “kept man” in periods of not many cases and we have to live of my money...then by all means drop your job! And...”

Sherlock held his hand up: “....before you rip my head off....thank you John for supporting me financial back then.....and my deepest apology for not observing that you actually didn’t like your job!”

John smiled back: “It wasn’t that bad.....only sometimes......and very awkward to be there...well after Mary shot you and after she was killed. But maybe you were right. It was a place to bury myself into something I’m good at, not thinking too much. I’ll think about quitting later. OK?”

Mycroft looked at John...oh yes...he had certainly underestimated that man.

“You mentioned the 2nd reason why I was here?” Mycroft said.

John explained: “Secondly you came by because you have news about Mary...or whatever her name was. And before you ask how I know: you have brought the briefcase that is standing on the floor in the kitchen. You normally only do that if you bring folders. You haven’t phoned Sherlock so it is not about a case, so the folder would be about something that could wait, so it is not extremely urgent. So it would be about something that concerns me....and Sherlock... and something that could be told when convenient. Like now when you wanted to stick your nose into our affairs......and what could that be anything but something new about that traitorous woman I married and who was pregnant indeed, but not with my child!”

“When did you actually find out about that?” wanted Mycroft to know.

“Well...a minimum knowledge of genetics would have shouted that fact to the heaven. How she could have believed that I wouldn’t notice....She must have believed me to be total daft....and I think it is the worst part! I have blood-type O rhesus negative and how Mary would explain baby Watson to have AB rhesus positive....well that is beyond me. The baby’s eyes turned brown too. Yet another thing Mary couldn’t explain. Of course I had it tested...without Mary’s knowledge. I wonder if she was a nurse after all, or else she couldn’t honestly have expected me to believe any more of her lies. The little girl....she was innocent in all this...and I might have learned to love her. She was adorable after all. And of course I felt sad as she died of “cot death” only two months old. But to be honest....I wouldn’t have stayed even14 days after that. I only stayed in my marriage because of the baby. Everything that woman did and said, the way she smelled, the way she made her hair, her makeup.....it had changed since the birth of baby Watson....she wasn’t “Mary Watson” anymore, but someone else. A woman I had come to hate...to despise!”

Mycroft rose to get the folder: “Then this will not surprise you!”

And John read and then looked at Mycroft: “Oh God...how could I be so blind?”

And it was Sherlock who answered after having looked into the similar folder Mycroft had given him: “Because she was that skilled and had powerful allies!”

John shook his head: “But to kill her own child as she found out how much such a tiny creature demands of you. That just shows how cold and calculating she really was. And it is really no surprise that it was that other assassin from the pool. Sherlock told me about it today, Mycroft. That David....he was the father. What a fool I have been!”

John shook his head: “But why would she choose me, when she had David?”

“Because you were David, but a better version” Sherlock answered: “A bit older but just as good looking. Just a bit shorter and just a dangerous, but more caring and loving. The best of David with the best of John Watson added. She couldn’t have had a better father for her child.”

“But counting on the buttons or fingers and the months a pregnancy is supposed to last...It shows that she saw David, when she was seeing me too. Yes we had sex....but I used condoms....and she said she was on birth-control....and at the same time she shagged David. Were there no ends to her deceitfulness?!”

“Apparently not” said Mycroft and pointed at the folder: “Please continue reading, John.”

And John read about the terrorist organisation that “Mary Watson” or rather: Amelia Gretha Rossen-Allbress, born in the USA, had been a part of. A part of CIA that had gone rouge but still had access to the facilities of that American organisation. An organisation within the organisation. Their only goal had been to gain power, just for the power alone. How she had chosen to be freelance together with 5 others and had killed people all over the world for those who would pay. When she wanted to leave, the rest wanted her dead. It was those persons....now in custody.....that killed Mary. And this last action did cost them their freedom, as Mycroft’s men had spotted them!

John looked at Mycroft: “And the Americans knew?!?”

“They did...and didn’t want to share their knowledge...until now!”

“What made them change their minds?” John wanted to know.

“Well...let me put it this way.” said Mycroft: “They had no choice and they know that they owe me and England a lot...let’s say for the next 50 years. We didn’t hesitate to tell them about the planned assassination of the American president, but they’ve withheld information for years. That is history now. I would just so much have liked to know all this about Mary before you married her.....and those blasted Americans knew about her then. Not much...but enough to have prevented all this misery. They are not in doubt now...I can assure you both that very powerful persons are indeed very displeased about their silence. Some are going to lose their jobs!”

“Well” said Sherlock and closed the folder: “It is in the past...there is no imminent treats against us for now. Mary is gone, killed by her own. She had killed her daughter.....and I’m sorry for the loss, John, because little baby Watson was an innocent victim of all this....and I wish we had known so timely that she could have been saved. The rest in this folder, both John and I know and you are here with me now, John, and I hope that I somehow can compensate for the time we have wasted being away from each other....and Mycroft, thank you for your visit, but John and I have some unfinished business to attend to. And will have to leave for the inner town in a short while.”

Sherlock had been sitting a bit restless during the last conversation and it was then John remembered that that buttplug was still in Sherlock’s arse....and that was why Sherlock was in a bit of a hurry. They would have time for a “quickie” if Mycroft left now!

John smirked at Mycroft: “We do have some unfinished business to attend to...in the bedroom!”

And then he looked at Sherlock, who gave a tiny little nod: “But if you want to see everything in HD quality you’ll either have to stay in person or have better cameras installed!”

And John had the pleasure of seeing Mycroft blush.

Mycroft cleared his throat and rose and said: “I better leave then...”

But John saw the hope in the eyes of the otherwise so closed Mycroft.

“Oh what the hell...if you can be quiet, then join us!” John said.


	13. Another visit

In the cab on the way to inner town and the club, John was holding Sherlock’s hand...Sherlock’s long elegant fingers were wrapped around his own sturdier ones and John was thinking....About how arousing he found the fact that Sherlock was almost hairless in his crotch.....how erotic he found Sherlock’s hairless testicles and about a remark that Sherlock had made some time ago and John began to giggle. Sherlock turned his head towards John and smiled and said: “What are you giggling about?”

“Oh...I just came to think about something, you said a while ago...You said:”I prefer my doctors clean shaven”....and you weren’t referring to my face! How did you know?”

Sherlock smirked: “Well....even if you were careful to remove every trace, you sometimes left a hair or two....obviously cut off and not fallen off and I have to admit that I find it very arousing that you are shaved there too!”

John gave it a few seconds thought that Sherlock would have put those pubic hairs under the microscope to deduce how they had ended on the floor in the bathroom, but he just said: “I find it arousing too...your hairlessness. But you are not...I mean “shaven”....You have no traces of stubble...not the slightest. How do you remove the hair?”

Sherlock smiled: “Well...it is the benefits of living in a metropolis. There are all sorts of clinics.....saloons. I’m having my crotch waxed every week.”

“Oh...that is why there is not a single hair to be spotted. Isn’t it rather painful?”

And now Sherlock laughed: “well...I had to tell them that I am a masochist...and that I might sport an erection during the process. But as I was recommended the clinic in my normal club, they knew about that and were rather relaxed about that too. I suppose you got used to your shaving in Afghanistan? Those little sand-flies made it necessary?”

“Yeah.....you’ll either shave or get wounds!”

Sherlock looked out in the traffic and said with a smile: “I can introduce you to the clinic if you want to get waxed.”

“I’ll think about it....I’m not so much into pain, you know! Obedience would be OK though!”

The two men sat in silence just holding hands and John thought about how surprisingly all right it had felt having Mycroft as a spectator to his and Sherlock’s bodily actions:

_And no...Mycroft had not been sitting there in his 3piece suit, but had undressed; putting his clothes meticulously away and had positioned himself carefully in the armchair in their bedroom, only wearing his vest and silk boxer briefs. And then Sherlock and John had forgotten everything about him as they had undressed and Sherlock had first put himself face down on the bed for John to check his bandages and afterwards positioned himself arse up in the air and arms “bound” to the headboard, wrapped in the belt from the blue morning gown, after John had checked the bandages. They didn’t have time for much role-play, so John had just used his captain-voice and ordered Sherlock around. John didn’t even have to prepare Sherlock much as he was already stretched and pre-lubed because of the butt-plug and had moaned obscenely as John had moved it a bit around aiming for Sherlock’s prostate-gland. John had ordered him to be silent and had smacked Sherlock’s buttocks and thighs. Not much, but enough to sting a bit and John could hear muffled sounds as Sherlock tried to obey him._

_John had finally removed the butt-plug and had fucked Sherlock with his fingers...aiming directly at Sherlock’s prostate and enjoying immensely how Sherlock fell apart. John had wondered if he should rim Sherlock again, but Sherlock had told him that even it had been heavenly he would prefer to be totally clean another time.....as in “having taken an enema and a bath” and John had promised that he wouldn’t repeat that action without preparations._

_Finally John had positioned himself behind Sherlock who had gripped the sheets with his bound hands so hard that he was close to tearing the sheets into pieces and as John drove his cock deep inside Sherlock, he could see that Sherlock was close. The silky, warm tightness of Sherlock around John’s cock nearly had John come after only a few thrusts and he fought hard to stop his own impending orgasm and ordered Sherlock, as he reached down and pinched Sherlock’s nipples: “use your voice... and come for me Sherlock!”....and Sherlock had moaned and almost mewed and that sound together with the spasms inside Sherlock finally brought John over the edge too. And in their post-orgasmic bliss lying next to each other face to face in the bed, after John had released Sherlock’s hands, because Sherlock was to blissed-out to do it himself, both John and Sherlock heard another moan and they fought hard not to giggle. They looked deep into each other’s eyes for a long time and caressed each other’s faces and when they finally “landed” and became more aware of their surroundings, they discovered that Mycroft had left. He had left a note on the coffee table, which just said: “Thank you!” together with one of his gold MasterCards and as John and Sherlock saw that note, they had a fit of giggles again._

_______________________________________

John squeezed Sherlock’s hand lightly and turned his head to look at Sherlock’s beautiful face in profile illuminated with the flickering lights of “London by night”...and of course Sherlock sensed that John looked at him and turned his head: “What is the matter? I can actually hear you thinking!” with that nose-wrinkle that John found so endearing.

“Nothing, Love....I’m just amazed that your brothers presence didn’t bother me at all.....and then I wondered what his wife is going to say to all that.”

Now Sherlock looked puzzled....but not quite....and John could easily read that....Sherlock knew of course about his brother....but he didn’t know that John knew!  
“Oh Sherlock....I figured that out more than a year ago. Your brother wears a ring...on his right hand I admit.....by European tradition....and Anthea’s ring has the exact same pattern. The way they talk to each other...an almost hidden brush of fingers against the other ones hand, when they are handing over files and folders. The way they look at each other...and yes I know that the same thing could be said about us for a long time. But we do not have matching rings!”

Sherlock smirked: “My brother has always underestimated you, John...and you are right. They have been married for more than 5 years now. But nobody knows....well counting you, it makes 4 that know! Not even my parents. It is too risky yet.”

And then he turned at John felt the penetrating look that only Sherlock could master: “Do you want “matching rings”, John?”

“Are you proposing?”

And Sherlock smirked again: “Oh...I forgot to kneel...and the red roses!”

John grappled Sherlock’s coat and turned Sherlock against him and kissed him firmly. And as he did let go of Sherlock’s coat he said: “I do not need roses....and the kneeling...well we can discuss that later....but yes, and yes and another yes. Of course....but I do not need rings to be sure about you. As I said....you’ll have to throw me out to get rid of me! But yes.....I would like to show everybody that we do belong together!”

And now it was John’s turn to smirk: “And rings are more....socially appropriate...than making you wearing a black leather collar around your neck!” and John gently touched Sherlock’s neck.

Sherlock grappled John’s hand and kissed it and looked at John through his eyelashes and rumbled with that voice that oozed of sex: “I wouldn’t mind such a collar either!”

“Oh God” moaned John as he easily pictured a totally naked Sherlock only wearing that collar and kneeling on the floor with his hands bound behind his back. The things he wanted to do him!

John adjusted his trousers a bit, since they apparently suddenly had grown too small and thought that he couldn’t wait until they were back at Baker Street again.....he had never been so horny in his whole life! Sherlock only had to say something in that voice and John’s cock would “come up” to see who was talking! John realised that that could be a problem at crime-scenes by now, when he would have so little control over his body. He would cast a single look at Sherlock, who would be bent over to look at a corpse.....and John would be thinking of that delicious arse and would want to lift the coat and tear down Sherlock’s trousers and pants and start fingering him. Or do more obscene things to that arse. How could he suddenly have lost his ability to control himself? He would have to wear a cock-ring to control his erections. For God’s sake...he wasn’t 20 any more!

He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed that they were at the club and only Sherlock’s tug at his sleeve made John aware of his surroundings again.

“Well, yeah...Sherlock...I got a little lost in my thoughts!”

“I can see that” said Sherlock and looked a John’s crotch.  
__________________________  
In the club they were greeted by a tall dark haired woman dressed in a very tight leather dress: “Oh Sherlock. You are back again....we have missed you so!”

Sherlock shook his head: “I do not need to come to visit you any more. I’m in a relationship now....let me introduce John....and he wants to do it right so he wants to talk to some of my regulars.”

“Oh I see” said the woman and looked John up and down.....and then her eyes widened and she looked once more: “Ohhhh.I.See......” she then said in another voice and then she turned towards Sherlock and said: “Hmm quite a man you have found there, Sherlock!”

And she turned towards John and gave him her hand: “Sorry for underestimating you! My name is Vanessa....and it is quite a disguise you have there in your woollen jumper. I could have taken you for being harmless. But you are not that al all...I see that now!”

And then she turned and walked away saying: “Sit down boys....Sherlock’s regulars will come down soon. He has been missed!”

John released the breath he didn’t know he had been withholding: “Wow....she is something!”

And Sherlock looked a bit worried at John. John looked back and saw the uncertainty in Sherlock...something no one else would have noticed. He reached up and took Sherlock’s face between his hands and kissed him gently: “Oh don’t worry love...she is nothing compared to you!”

“She is a woman..”

“And as I said....”nothing compared to you”....you, Sherlock is all I want.....All I’ve ever wanted. I was just stupid enough not to know. Yes she is a woman...and quite good looking. But she isn’t half as good looking as you and she is not half as clever. I love all of you, Sherlock. You could even look a bit more like Mycroft...and I would still love you! I love your body....and your incredible mind....all of you!!! Your bravery...your big heart.....and your scars....because they show what an incredible man you are! I love you!!!” And John had kissed Sherlock more than 10 times on different parts of Sherlock’s face and neck as he spoke.

Sherlock had just been standing there...his eyes closed and allowing himself to enjoy every kiss and word of endearment. Finally he had opened his eyes and John almost drowned in the intensity of them: “I love you too, John. More than my own life! More than everything!”

John pressed himself against Sherlock. He fitted so perfectly under Sherlock’s chin and they were just standing there breathing the scent of the other in:....tea, Sherlock’s coat which did hide remnants of London and fog and traffic...of John’s jumper which smelled faintly of the Chinese take away, they had been eaten, of detergents and of Sherlock’s indecently expensive aftershave, John’s a bit cheaper one and the scent that was unique for each of them....it meant “home” and “security” prior...and now it meant “togetherness” and “love” too.

They heard voices talking as they finally did let go of each other and found that 4 people were watching them: 3 men and one woman. One of the men was looking a bit like John: blond and a bit muscular. The other 3 were more like Sherlock: tall and with dark hair, but all 4 good looking.

Sherlock looked at John and said in a low voice: “To repeat your words: “nothing compared to you”...I too love all of you. Your mind too. Your mind that is my guardian light....You keep me right in a way those persons would never be able to. I love the dualism in you.....your kindness...and the danger in you too!”

And he squeezed John’s hand lightly.  
_______________________  
John and Sherlock were sitting in a room together with those 4 people and they told...in turn...what they used to do to Sherlock. How he would respond and what he liked the most. They had actually brought the spreadsheet with them and handed it to John. And he made small notes and asked questions as well.

There had been a moment of confusion as Sherlock had sat down on the couch and had winced a bit...and John noticed their concern and glances at him.

Sherlock had noticed too and hurried to explain: “Oh..it is not like Victor all over again! I was wounded by a criminal! John is actually an educated doctor.....and he would rather break a leg on himself than cause me permanently damage. That is why we are here!”

And John told that he had been in a relationship where he had been a “dom”, so he wasn’t totally inexperienced....and as those 3 people began to...well “interview” would be the right word....but Sherlock felt it a bit like an “interrogation”, John surprised him yet again. No....he wasn’t a total novice in that area.....and the 3 people had to readjust there view of this seemingly harmless doctor. They too now saw the soldier.....and the sadist... that John was too....his dark side.....his dangerous side.

John and Sherlock stayed in that club 4 hours. They were showed the more public rooms....for now empty....and were invited to come and “perform a scene” if they ever would want to. John looked at Sherlock and Sherlock at John...well it wouldn’t be so much more different from having Mycroft and who know how many of his minions to watch their actions during a “scene”, would it?  
_______________________  
When they left the club and headed towards 221B Baker Street it was with a spreadsheet of Sherlock’s preferences, a lot of good advices and a quite selection of high quality “tools”.....floggers, canes, whips, nipple-clamps, wax, leather-cuffs with Velcro so one could get out of them...not easily...but with some effort, cock-rings and various adjustable harnesses and leather –straps.  
“High-quality...not that cheep stuff you can buy on the internet or at home-parties” had the blonde man, “Jacques” , snorted and had given them the secret internet address for “professionals”. Oh yes..they were going to have an enjoyable time spending Mycroft’s money on the internet. But not right now. Despite his sexual activity the last 24 hours had been much more than his activities the last months actually, John had an insisting erection in his trousers...and some very nasty plans for Sherlock in their bedroom. Something involving wax, nipple-clamps and the leather-cuffs.

John just wondered if Mycroft had had time to change the cameras to a better quality...but a bit more than 4 hours would have been enough.....and in that case, Mycroft was in for a show!


	14. Collars and a challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with Beta and Britt-picker. Awesome "NumberThirteen" has offered to help. So now all the errors are no longer mine (*giggle*) ;-)

To John's and Sherlock’s surprise the biggest change in their relationship was that it didn’t change that much. They still solved crimes. John kept his job at the clinic, but only part time. Well, of course, there was the mind-blowing sex too. And, of course, Sherlock’s tantrums, moods, sulking and fits of boredom were now re-directed and almost reduced to nothing by their bedroom activities. And sometimes in the living-room. And on a few occasions, in the kitchen. But they still solved cases together. Sherlock could be an obnoxious brat and John would silently fume a bit and try to control the worst parts of Sherlock’s behaviour, sometimes just by clearing his throat. But besides from that, their dynamic really wasn’t changed that much.

Of course John felt sometimes that it was very difficult to keep his hands away from Sherlock’s delicious arse and body when they were on a crime-scene. And the wagers about the status of their relationship finally found their winners and losers at the Yard, making Donovan and Lestrade a bit richer and Anderson a lot poorer. And John had sometimes wondered if he should try to find some medication that could diminish his carnal urges for Sherlock; a lust that he felt to be rather inappropriate at crime-scenes. John respected that Sherlock had no wish of engaging in sex whilst working on a case. But it was rather difficult to be abstinent!

John understood the way that Sherlock honed his mind to notice everybody and everything, and like that, was able to deduce and solve the crimes. And John understood that there would be nearly no time for Sherlock to sleep or to eat if John wasn’t there to gently force him. John did, and Sherlock’s deductive abilities didn’t suffer under it - a bit to Sherlock’s surprise.

Not that John forced real meals into Sherlock, but he gave him sweetened tea, nutrition drinks and always put some easily-eaten bits of food beside Sherlock, when he was working on the computer or reading a book or papers. It would be too much of a risk to put it beside Sherlock when he was working on his experiments!

Sometimes John would order Sherlock to rest, to take a power-nap - preferably in John’s old room, which would be relatively cold and totally dark. The bed was made with linen that was washed in fragrance-free detergent. This made the room made into almost a sensory-deprivation area. And Sherlock would power-nap in there, or just lie there, thinking. There was a timer in the room and Sherlock would only stay in there for a few hours. To his own surprise he found that he worked better afterwards. And that was the fact too, when he didn’t deprive himself of nutrition.

And then after the case was solved, when they had been running around in London’s streets, alleys, backyards and byways, and finally had caught the criminals, then they would finally make their way home to Baker Street. Sometimes, but more seldomly now, with a brief visit to the emergency department, if it wasn’t something that John could treat at home.

Before they had turned their relationship up a notch, Sherlock would often crash, the machine of his mind being close to destruction, because he could not make his mind stop deducing, calculating, noticing everything. But now John would just look at Sherlock, and then he would fetch the beautiful, bespoke collar and put it around Sherlock’s neck. Sometimes forcing it on him, and sometimes with Sherlock just accepting it.

The collar was almost black, with just a hint of chestnut, exactly the same colour as Sherlock’s hair. Sometimes Sherlock would fight back and would reach to unbuckle it with a sneer. John would look at Sherlock calmly and ask if Sherlock wanted to safe-word out, and only once had Sherlock used his safe-word and taken his collar off. He’d thrown it away and shouted insults at John and thrown himself on the couch. He had re-created a rather impressive version of the ‘old sulking Sherlock’, throwing himself around on the couch like he had ants in his pants. The sulk lasted for thirty long minutes. And then he had begun to throw insults at John, provoking him into an argument, and they’d started shouting at each other. Then Sherlock had disappeared into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him, and John decided that he needed a walk to the shops, so he could calm down.

When he came back forty-five minutes later, Sherlock was stark naked, collared, his head bowed, and kneeling in the living-room. In front of him was the senior cane. The one Sherlock hated the most. The one John used for real punishment.

When Sherlock heard John entering the room he didn’t lift his head but kept it bowed and said, “I’m sorry John, Sir. I insulted you and hurt you with my words. I know you were trying to help me and I was wrong using my safe-word. Maybe you shouldn’t have listened. Just like Victor didn’t!.... Sir!”

John hurried to kneel in front of Sherlock, “Hey Love. Now you listen very carefully to me. I will never _not_ listen to and obey your safe-word. Never! That’s a path I never wish to walk! It is bad enough that my temper sometimes make me be a bit too harsh on you. It is your right to use a safe-word, and my duty and privilege to obey it!”

He rose, and not touching Sherlock, he said, “But you have put your collar on and now you know that I’m the one who decides. That walk cooled me down. I’m not angry anymore. And as I’ve told you before, I shouldn’t be pissed off with you when we are in a scene after we’ve had a row.”

John’s whole demeanour then altered and Captain Watson emerged, “Bedroom. Now. And you crawl on all fours!”

“Yes, Sir!”  
_____________________  
(Just for the record: The senior cane didn’t get used. But one of the others did, and a lot of other things too.)  
___________________________

But that had only been once. Normally the collar would quickly take Sherlock to subspace when it closed around his neck.

John had a collar too. It was nearly same colour as Sherlock’s, but with more chestnut to it and Sherlock thought that it was looking stunning against John’s more tanned skin-tone. How John managed to maintain that golden tone over almost his whole body while being an Englishman and living in the English climate... Well that was a marvel to Sherlock.

When John was wearing the collar it meant that Sherlock was totally in charge. Sherlock’s sadistic and dominant side made him the perfect Dom; mostly because John didn’t have to say anything, ask for anything or do anything except obey Sherlock. Sherlock would deduce and read everything just looking at John. It should actually have been a bit disturbing, but when John had handed over his sovereignty to Sherlock in the bedroom, he found it arousing to be at the receiving end of so much scrutiny. It was nice at some occasions just to let go. To let Sherlock decide everything.

One of the things that Sherlock would do was to put John in a harness. They had several adjustable harnesses that they got from the club. But they were not good enough to their taste. The same man, who had made the collars, had made some harnesses too. Sherlock’s were in pitch black leather with silver-coloured buckles and rings, and John’s were made of leather just several shades darker than the colour of his skin with golden buckles and rings. He looked stunning in them, but then again… Sherlock in his black ones almost made John come on the spot!

When Sherlock had brought it up that he wanted to collar John, John had protested and asked if it wasn’t enough that Sherlock ordered him around like he did outside their bedroom, in their flat and outside their front door, and that he’d mentioned before that he’d had his fair share of pain, thank you very much!

Sherlock had just looked at him and asked, “In the army, you were a captain and not a general. That means that you sometimes didn’t give orders but followed them, just like you sometimes follow my orders. How did you feel about that?”

“All right… If it was necessary. I don’t mind following orders... It can sometimes be liberating when someone else is responsible for the decisions.”

“Exactly my point, John. You are often, and for a long time, in charge, regarding us both here, and sometimes outside our flat too. In the clinic you’re responsible for the health of your patients. What I offer..” Sherlock pointed at the bespoke collar and the harness, “....is an opportunity to let go of all the responsibility. Let me explain it a bit better - when you dom me, John, is it mostly about my needs or yours?”

“Yours… If I didn’t do that your brain would eat itself. Not that it isn’t nice for me to enter dom-space like I sometimes do… But it is mostly about your needs.”

“Then why shouldn’t I offer you a possibility to let go… To end up in subspace. I’ve no intention of inflicting pain on you. I sincerely hope that you trust me in this. I just want you to enjoy the relaxation of being dommed.”

Sherlock looked at John for a few seconds and then added “It’s not that I have a need to use the other side of my sexuality - being sadistic and dominating. When I went to the other club it was at their request and we’ve never discussed it, John. What I did there and why. I was asked to go to that club and help. They had observed me at the old club… And being the professionals they are, they noticed that I had switch-tendencies. They wanted to find out if I was a switch. I had thought about it, knowing my tendencies to “top from the bottom” and I found out that I was an excellent Dom. I enjoyed to be able to make people float. But only if they enjoyed it themselves.”

Sherlock paused and then he continued in a totally different tone, “While I was… away… I had to do nasty things to make people talk… To torture them. I had enjoyed being “sadistic” in the club, making people fall apart, making them desperate for release, controlling their orgasms… But to have to actually torture those people from Moriarty’s net… It was terrible. I knew exactly what to do… How to put a bit pressure on this joint, how to break fingers, how to shoot them and still keep them alive… At least long enough to make them talk.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and continued, “I told Moriarty once that I was on the side of the angels, but wasn’t one of them. But as I travelled… I was most certainly not on the side of the angels anymore. I was pure and raw vengeance… And I hated every second of it!”

He looked down at his hands. The hands that without even a tool in them, had made people talk and tell their innermost secrets. Or the secrets of the organisation they belonged to. And scream!

He looked at John, “I understand if you… maybe... would hesitate to put your body in my hands. But I assure you, it is about your needs, not mine. I have no longer a need to control anybody sexually… I’m just offering you means of relaxation. Not exactly the way it works for me… But something that would work for you, without pain!”

John had risen and kissed Sherlock, “I trust you with my life. And if you’ve deduced that I might need something like that..” John pointed at the collar and the harness, “Well, I’m willing to give it a try!”

__________________________

No. It wasn’t pain that John needed when he put the collar around his neck, or if Sherlock had deduced his needs and put it around John’s neck with his long, elegant and surprisingly strong hands. But it was submission. And Sherlock would show his dominance, not by inflicting pain, but by demanding total submission, and punishments if John failed to obey immediately and wholeheartedly.

But the punishments weren’t pain-based punishments because John had said that he’d had enough pain as a soldier. He had struggled against the excruciating sepsis in his blood and bones after he was wounded. But Sherlock had found the implements that made John’s body produce the endorphins that made him float, without causing more that a tiny bit of pain. They were mainly things like suede floggers and mild nipple clamps - items that would sound or look harsh but would hardly hurt. The idea was to trick the brain using means other than the tactile, using mainly sound and visual tricks.

But sometimes Sherlock would decide when John was allowed to come too...to delay John’s orgasms.

John found that being a sub was liberating. He was good at it. Actually better than Sherlock. And Sherlock seldom had to punish John by delaying his orgasms. John didn’t need restraints, not even those he used on Sherlock, which he was able to get out of if he wanted to do so. And Sherlock admitted that he admired the willpower John had.

_______________________

John kept his job at the clinic, but only as a part-time job. He had insisted on being able to call in and cancel if an important case showed up, or that he could leave early if Sherlock needed his help. And he was such a good doctor that it was accepted. Sherlock had accepted too that he was not supposed to leave for a case higher than five without John. So the clinic had only the full use of John’s abilities in the quieter periods, when the criminals were apparently on hiatus.

Currently, John was dearly needed at the clinic, since apparently every child in London - or at least in the clinic’s catchment area - had decided to get a nasty cough. And the adults had chosen to get the flu. Which is why John slowly walked up the seventeen steps to their flat one evening, two months into their new relationship, to find Sherlock in his chair, reading a newspaper, and John’s collar ready for him on the table.

John just looked at it and said, “Red…. Sherlock... I’m knackered.”

As he paused to hang his coat and his scarf on the hook, he continued, “I just want to have a shower, eat something from right side of the fridge (where the food would be..and not the left side, where Sherlock’s experiments would be in plastic containers) and then go to bed. To sleep. I’ve just had a nasty double-shift, as you well know, you git!”

Sherlock smirked and said, “I know. That’s why - if you were not too tired to be observant - you’d notice that it is **my** collar and not yours!”

John’s cock decided that it wasn’t that tired after all and John could feel the familiar warmth in the lower part of his body.

“But I’ve only subbed three times since we started. And you have subbed all the other times, even if it wasn’t after a case!” protested John.

Sherlock threw the newspaper aside and rose, coming over to where John was standing, “It is not about turns, but about needs. And not even mine right now. It is a challenge. I’ll submit to you so you can have that feeling of dominance, of being in control. Right now, all the paperwork at the clinic is killing you, and you feel trapped between your need to help all those ill people and your wish to be more at home with me… Even if I’m sometimes intolerable!”

John smiled but didn’t say a word.

Sherlock continued, “A challenge… I’m not taking the collar voluntarily. You’ll have to put it on me without me noticing!”

Now John was actually laughing, “Challenge accepted!”


	15. Finally!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again beta'ed and Brit-picked by NumberThirteen!

It proved more difficult than John anticipated to get the collar around Sherlock’s neck. John had four days off work because he had worked that tiring double shift. And Sherlock’s plan had been brilliant. John forgot everything about being tired because of the challenge. The whole evening while they were eating delivered take-away, John was planning how to get the collar around the neck of one of the most observant men in the world. It was not going to be easy!

On two occasions that weekend, John thought that he had managed it. Once as Sherlock had been occupied with his microscope in the kitchen, and the other time Sherlock had been reading, but as John had buckled the collar around Sherlock’s neck, Sherlock’s eyes had sparkled and John had discovered that Sherlock had put a finger in between the collar and his neck.  
John had then kissed him and laughed too and they had almost “vanilla” sex afterwards. Slow and caring, and without restraints and nearly without pain for Sherlock. Sherlock still found it difficult to “tip over the edge” without a hint of pain though. But John teasing, licking and biting a bit too hard on his nipples would be enough to get him there. 

But Monday afternoon, John finally managed and Sherlock surrendered.

John wanted to do something to Sherlock that he had thought about since the first day they’d had sex. He had done it that time, but not since. Sherlock was ordered to undress and go to the bathroom and as John entered he almost lost his breath at the stunning sight of Sherlock on all fours, kneeling obediently on one of the quilted carpets they used for this purpose (and had dry cleaned regularly) and only wearing his collar. His wounds were healed by now and there were only faint remnants of his scars from Victor. Even those from Serbia were only white lines. John touched Sherlock almost reverently and kissed him gently at his neck above the collar as he whispered, “You are so beautiful… And you have no idea what I’m going to do to you… How I will mark you!” 

John felt a sudden urge to claim Sherlock, to show everybody that Sherlock belonged to him, and him alone! Sherlock shuddered and thought that yes, John should mark him. With a whip, with a cane, with his mouth… Anything!

Sherlock moaned back, “Yes, Sir… Please. I’m yours!” John sucked a love-bite just below the collar. Nothing more.

John glanced at a corner of the bathroom, wondering if Mycroft was watching the live feed. Both John and Sherlock knew where Mycroft’s cameras were and they were good sports, considerate of Mycroft, so they seldom blocked the cameras’ view. They knew when Mycroft had appreciated something he had seen, because a hamper of delicacies from Fortnum & Mason’s would be delivered to 221B Baker Street shortly after. John was a bit disturbed by the thought of Mycroft watching them, but he would push it away… Mycroft’s behaviour wasn’t really any more peculiar than some of Sherlock’s actions. Sometimes John wondered if the Holmes brothers were another species. Aliens maybe? Just like in the TV-show ‘Mr Bean’. Had they arrived like Mr. Bean, beamed down from a space-ship?

John had plans that he wanted to surprise Sherlock with. He retrieved the necessary items from the cupboard in the bathroom. They had put a small cupboard in the bathroom that they kept some of the toys and things that they might need, as they’d play in that room as well as their bedroom. John idly wondered if another hamper would arrive, courtesy of Big Brother.

John got the enema equipment from the bathroom cupboard. He wanted Sherlock to be totally clean in that area. It would be necessary for the things he had planned out for Sherlock, and oh… He’d had the time to plan, while trying to get that collar around Sherlock’s neck!

The enema kit had a selection of different nozzles to choose from. It was certainly not for medical use, as such a kit would definitely not contain nozzles the size of rather big butt plugs. This particular enema kit was designed specifically for Dom/sub play. But the results would be the same as if it was a medical enema. A clean rectum. And it would surprise Sherlock, who was unaware that John had bought it.

Sherlock was ordered to stay still, his arse in the air and head down on this elbows as John put lubricant on one of the big nozzles. John whispered quietly to Sherlock just what he intended to do. Sherlock’s response was a throaty moan.

John had previously given himself an enema when Sherlock had been out on a case two days earlier. The case had only been a three, but Sherlock had promised Lestrade that he’d have a look. And John had taken the opportunity to try the kit himself. Not that he hadn’t had enemas before. It was sometimes necessary when a person had been bedbound for a long time, as he had been when he was wounded. But there’d been nothing sexual about it then. The butt plug nozzles made it a wholly different experience though! John found out that the soapy solution only took five minutes to work, and then another five minutes on the toilet to totally evacuate his bowels. He had never felt that clean!

John eased the nozzle into Sherlock’s opening and administered the lukewarm water and ordered Sherlock to maintain that position until John came back. Walking into the living room, John set the timer and began to read. Sherlock would feel humiliated, being given an enema, especially if John left him alone and Sherlock would not know when John would return. Sherlock would just have to endure the treatment. And he would enjoy every minute of it!

John lost track of time as he got involved in his book, and hadn’t realised that the timer was actually broken. John didn’t look at the watch on his wrist until more than twenty minutes had passed.

“Shit!” John shouted and ran to the bathroom. Sherlock could easily have safe-worded, but he had obediently stayed, arse up in the air and had just endured. John realised that it was rather painful for Sherlock by now. Not dangerous, there were no real dangers with a twenty minute retention, just extreme discomfort.

John hurried and helped Sherlock to the toilet, removing the nozzle that held the water inside Sherlock’s body. Sherlock was to weak to get there himself and while John apologised, he carefully held Sherlock in place so he could finish the process.

Finally John helped Sherlock into bed.

“Why didn’t you use your safe-word Sherlock, when it became too uncomfortable?” John wanted to know.

Sherlock sighed and kept his eyes closed, his intestines still sore from cramping, “I thought that it was the idea, the discomfort. That you wanted to punish me for teasing you. I was in no danger… Just extremely uncomfortable!” 

“I’m sorry love. Yes, I intended to humiliate you a bit… But not to create such discomfort!”

Sherlock smiled at him, “It’s allright John, I could have safe-worded out… And I was close to doing that. But I said to myself: he is coming in here soon. And I’m not going to disappoint John… So I endured!”

They were just lying there, in close proximity for a while when Sherlock smirked, “It would be a shame to waste the opportunity...”

John frowned and looked at Sherlock, “What opportunity?”

Now Sherlock lowered the register of his voice… The tone he knew would turn John on, “To have some rimming while I am cleaner than I’ll be for a while... Sir...”

That voice and those words immediately made a certain part of John’s body very interested. He slipped into captain-mode and silently wondered how Sherlock managed to turn him so much on just by using words… And that incredibly sexy voice!

“On your stomach! Hands in front of you! Grip the restraints! Legs wide apart!” barked Captain Watson.

Sherlock hurried to obey. The restraints were soft thick leather straps fastened to the headboard and Sherlock used them by winding the leather around his wrists. He was able to get out of them easily if he wanted to. He would just have to manoeuvre his wrists to get out. But somehow it worked. His brain seemed to forget that he was able to do that when he hit subspace.

John pushed a pillow under Sherlock’s hips and secured Sherlock’s slightly bent legs with leather straps, similar to those on the headboard. A precise movement of Sherlock’s feet would free him of those restraints as well. And the leather wasn’t that strong and would break if real force was put on it. 

John positioned himself between Sherlock’s thighs and began to knead Sherlock’s buttocks, slowly spreading them apart. And then he began to lick a trail up between them, from close to Sherlock’s delicious balls and all the way back to his orifice. Sherlock was falling apart under John’s ministrations. He was shuddering, panting and clutching the restraints so hard that his knuckles turned white.

John loved making Sherlock fall apart. To control him so much that Sherlock would forget his own name and would only be able to utter simple words… And sometimes even not that.

John had thought about gagging Sherlock sometimes. Maybe with something like a bit. They had seen things like that on the net and in the club. But he refrained from doing it. He liked the sound of Sherlock’s deep baritone voice too much!

When Sherlock moaned and sometimes almost mewed, John almost came on the spot.

Right now, John was sure that Sherlock could even not remember his own name, only John’s. Sherlock was chanting: “John.... John......John!” almost like a prayer.

John didn’t say anything as he was very busy pushing his tongue in and out of Sherlock’s anus, alternating with licking long broad strokes along the crack of Sherlock’s arse almost sucking at the opening. John lost track of time, and so did Sherlock. For Sherlock the bedroom ceased to exist, the flat… London… Earth! The only things in the universe were the three points of connection he had with John: his tongue and his firm hands on Sherlock’s buttocks. A small part of Sherlock’s brain tried to tell that there was no pain and that was a shame, but the rest of his brain told that other part to just shut up and enjoy! 

Sherlock was glad that the restraints were there or he would have moved around too much. Now he was held firmly in place. Suddenly it became too much and Sherlock yelled, “Red… Red! Sir! Unless you want me to come!”

John moved his mouth away from Sherlock’s arse long enough to say, “Come for me, Sherlock” before continuing to eat Sherlock’s arse out.

Sherlock came with a moan and a shudder and his orgasm just continued as John kept fucking his anus with his tongue, immensely enjoying how Sherlock convulsed around his tongue. It was on brink of being painful. And then Sherlock went limp. His body so blissed-out that he lost consciousness for a several seconds. It didn’t scare John like it had done the first time it had happened, and he knew that Sherlock would surface again and come back ‘on-line’ within a matter of minutes.

When Sherlock landed again he found himself held in John’s arms. The restraints had been removed and the collar was gone too.

“That was… That was incredible, extraordinary and utterly fantastic!” stuttered Sherlock, “Thank you John… Please let me return the favour!” Sherlock started to move his head down John’s abdomen and towards his groin with the determined intention of freeing John from his clothes, or at least to free an important part of him!

“Later maybe,” smiled John and pushed Sherlock up again, kissing him firmly. “Something happened that hasn’t happened to me since I was a horny sixteen year old boy. I came in my pants!”

Sherlock and John both giggled and decided they could use some sleep. John removed his clothes, glad to be rid of his soiled pants, and naked he crawled under the duvet and moved closer to Sherlock’s warm body. Sherlock, like a languid octopus, draped himself over John, and like that, they fell asleep.


	16. Favour returned and a gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again beta'ed and Brit-picked by NumberThirteen! And a humble 'Thank you for doing that' from me :-)

John was the first to wake up after about two hours of sleep. He was just lying there looking at Sherlock and wondering how he had managed to earn the privilege of being that incredible man’s best friend and now lover, and hopefully later, husband. He couldn’t help but kiss the small frown above Sherlock’s nose. The frown he found so endearing. John smiled happily and almost foolishly like a Golden Retriever as Sherlock opened his eyes and looked back at John with a smile.

“See, Sherlock. Vanilla sex can work for you. You came without any pain!” said John with a smirk.

Sherlock laughed with that deep rumble of his and turned towards John, “I’m sorry Doctor, but I think that your definition of “vanilla” is a bit broader than normal. If you would recall our actions - We are both male… You gave me a humiliation enema and I was rimmed while in restraints. I was totally starkers and you had your clothes on!” and now Sherlock was smirking, “But if it’s your version of vanilla, I’m not going to complain. It was really intense and… I… I would like to return the favour.”

Oh yes. John wouldn’t mind that!

“I’m most certainly not the one to say “no””, John replied, “But I’ll have to take an enema first… and preferably not a twenty minute one! Sorry about that again. But later. Right now, I’m starving.”  
____________________________  
It was dark outside. Well as dark as it could get in a big city and they decided to order take away… They dressed only in their dressing gowns and pyjama bottoms and sat down on the couch. They didn’t bother showering now as they knew their plans for later that evening, would mean they’d only need another shower anyway.

After eating in front of the telly, they cuddled on the couch; John sitting upright and Sherlock curled up beside him, with his head in John’s lap, looking like an overgrown cat.

They were watching a subtitled French film on BBC4. It was one of those surreal movies that left them both with huge question marks hanging over their heads by the end of it.

“Suivre le lapin”, said John as he repeated the last sentence in the film and it was so absurd that they fell into giggles.

“I think it would have been easier to understand if we hadn’t missed the first forty-five minutes.” said Sherlock.

John shook his head, “I don’t agree. I really don’t think those forty-five minutes would have explained the bicycle, the tuxedo and the blue vase, not to mention the sailing boat and the cupboard in the green room. I think those French film-makers are laughing their arses off whenever someone tries to explain their films. They aren’t supposed to make sense!”

The two men smiled at each other before kissing one another.

“I don’t understand how you can turn me on so much.” said John, tilting his pelvis so that Sherlock could feel John’s stiff cock against his cheek, “I’m not a teenager, but I’m ready for a second round. My refractory period should be much longer at my age!”

Sherlock turned his head and pressed his nose against John’s groin and sniffed, “Umm… I like it when you smell of you and not so much soap… And don’t you call yourself an old man. There’s only a few years between us.” Sherlock pressed his nose further into John’s now very erect cock.

John’s head fell back on the backrest, he closed his eyes, let his thighs fall further apart to give Sherlock enough space and decided to just enjoy the feelings as Sherlock nuzzled further and began to lick and suck at John’s cock through the thin cotton of his bottoms. Sherlock slithered onto the floor between John’s thighs and managed to get John’s cock out of the pyjama trousers without using his hands. And then they were just sitting there enjoying each other. Sherlock happily licked, sucked and made obscene slurping noises as he concentrated on giving John an amazing blow-job. John sat as still as he could, not wanting to miss a second of the exquisite feelings that were coursing through his system.

Suddenly Sherlock stopped. He too was panting hard. He rose and reached his hand out for John asking,”Bathroom and then bedroom? And would you wear your collar?”

John hesitated for a few seconds. He wasn’t totally sure that he wanted to submit, but a certain part of his anatomy had decided that it would be very interesting indeed.

John smiled, “Yes… Green, Sir!”  
___________________  
Sherlock admired John’s body as John knelt on all fours on the quilt in the bathroom. John had maintained his position for about eight long minutes, wearing one of his harnesses and with one of the big enema-plugs up his arse. John hadn’t uttered a word and had only moved slightly. He was such an astonishing sight! The dust of blonde hair (and a few grey ones too) on John’s body, on his legs, his arms and his chest, almost invisible in the dim light of the bathroom, was a sight Sherlock never grew tired of. Sherlock could feel them as he caressed John’s body, and he thought of the day when he had taken John to the salon to get his hair in the groin area removed.

_John had been a bit nervous. He knew what could go wrong… He was a doctor dammit! He had seen it at the clinic when people came in after failed attempts to remove hair on different places of the human anatomy. It wasn’t a pretty sight. And then John had begun to chuckle, there in the cab on the way to the salon._

_Sherlock had turned his head to look at him and had asked, “What’s on your mind?” and John had smiled and asked, ”Do you remember the Veet experiment? I’m glad that no such chemicals are going to be put on me today!”_

_Sherlock had smiled back… Oh yes he remembered that experiment!_

_John had been sitting in the living room as Sherlock had asked for his help and as John lifted his head from the newspaper to look at Sherlock, he gasped. Sherlock’s arms and legs were sporting various strips of red irritated skin. Hairless strips. These were very easy to see as Sherlock was only wearing boxer shorts and a T-shirt._

_Sherlock had huffed, “As you can see, John, I’ve run out of skin to conduct my experiments on… And I would very much appreciate it if I could continue the experiment on your legs!”_

_John had just cast a glance at the irritated skin on Sherlock’s arms and legs before saying a definite, “No thank you!”_

_But Sherlock pled and begged, “Jooohn. I’ve chosen the harsh ones to try on my own arms and legs. I just need you for the milder ones!”_

_And that was why John had sported totally hairless legs and arms for the first time in decades. And Sherlock had been right. The hair remover chemicals that John had been a guinea-pig for, only made a light rash. Sherlock’s though, left red irritated skin for several weeks and John had to help Sherlock tend to them._

_Back in the cab John had a sudden flash of insight, and he’d asked Sherlock, “Were you making a pass at me with that experiment? Walking around like that… Just in your underwear.”_

_Sherlock had smirked back, “Yeah… A bit. But it was a real experiment though… And it solved a cold case!”_

_At the clinic John was shown into a private room. He was told to undress and to lie face down on a padded black massage bed. A young man had entered, followed by Sherlock. Sherlock had smiled at John and pointed at the young man and said, “I wouldn’t risk you being treated by one of the young ladies, Mr. “3-continents-Watson”, so this is Peter and he is the best, and I’ve told him that you’re a trained killer!” Saying that, Sherlock spun on his heel and left._

_Peter had smiled and had said, “Of course I know who you are, Dr. Watson, and Sherlock has told me that you are a novice, so I won’t hide the fact that it is going to hurt a bit!”_

_And John had laughed and said, “Yeah… Just like doctors say. And it’s a big lie too. It’s going to hurt like hell!”_

_And it had been painful, but manageable, However Peter was skilled and professional. So now John was now a regular in the salon too. John did protest vehemently when Peter suggested total body hair removal. Both John and Sherlock preferred natural hair growth on the rest of the body. Except on the face. Not that Sherlock sported that much bodily hair at the best of times. But after the Veet experiment, they agreed that they both looked better with a bit of natural hair._

_____________________  
__ Back in the bathroom Sherlock was very careful about calculating the right amount of time for the enema. There was no reason to put John through the same ordeal that Sherlock had endured. A small bit of humiliation, even more because Mycroft could be watching, would be all right. But the main goal was for cleanliness.

After John had evacuated the enema, and they had both moved into the bedroom, Sherlock helped John to lie face down on the bed. John had already entered subspace, and just let Sherlock move and position him. John was restrained with the leather-straps, but in a slightly different position to how Sherlock had been, as John’s shoulder would be stressed if his arm was held over his head for too long. Sherlock remembered how difficult it had been to remain still, so the restraints, which were rarely used on John, would be necessary.  
__________________ _  
_ When Sherlock had put the collar around John’s neck, John thought that Sherlock had deduced him correctly. The collar initiated a Pavlovian response in him, simultaneously calming him down and arousing him. Not that John needed that much extra arousal. His cock had been erect since Sherlock had given him the unfinished blow-job. Not even the enema had made it falter.

Sherlock had chosen the smallest harness for John to wear. It was a series of straps that wrapped around John’s upper body, but had a strap which led down the front of the body, that was kept in place with a cock ring. There was laughter when John had first tried the harness on as the cock ring was far too small, preventing John from getting an erection. The harness was returned to the tailor and the relevant adjustment had been made.

On the bed, John barely noticed when Sherlock restrained him. His whole body was pliant and limp, and at the same time humming with energy. An energy that turned into an intense feeling of pleasure, on the brink of unbearable when Sherlock spread John’s buttocks apart and began licking, sucking and kissing at his anus. So much so, after only a few seconds, John almost forgot his own name. Especially when Sherlock fucked him with his tongue and as he came, he almost lost consciousness, just like Sherlock had done.

When John came to his senses he was lying under the duvet together with a very naked Sherlock.

“That was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had,” said John, drowsy after the orgasm-induced storm of chemicals in his body.

“Hm...” was Sherlock’s answer, “It was quite intense for me too. Probably because of the novelty in it… And the decadence. I didn’t come in my pants, though!”

John frowned at that and offered, “I’ll be more than willing to do something in return!”

Sherlock smirked, “Not necessary... It was intense for me too, rimming you. Your reactions, your moans… But I wasn’t wearing pants to come in! I came when you came...”

Sherlock paused briefly, before adding, “I suppose there might be another hamper from Fortnum and Mason soon...”

“Oh God… I almost forgot that we have an audience!” moaned John.  
______________________  
It was the biggest hamper yet, filled with expensive delicacies and a card of the finest high-quality cream paper with only three handwritten words:  
'Thank you' and 'Please'...

The next time John and Sherlock had an enema session, they invited Mycroft to watch. This time, the thanks were heard in person.


	17. Secrets revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again beta'ed and Brit-picked by NumberThirteen!

For about a month things were quiet… Too quiet. John had shifts at the clinic and Sherlock was bored. The criminals were apparently on holiday and not a single interesting crime popped up. Not even interesting cold cases were available. 

Sherlock had been absorbed by experiments for a while, but three weeks after their last rimming session, Sherlock was starting to feel tense and twitchy. One Sunday afternoon he’d been lying on the couch trying to read, when he suddenly got up, went into the bedroom and came out a few minutes later. His collar was in his left hand and his right hand was hidden behind his back.

He knelt by John’s chair saying, “You mentioned that I should just ask… So… Please, I’m asking you John. Before it gets worse!”

He handed both the collar and the riding crop that had been hidden behind his back to John.

John put down his book and looked at Sherlock, “Vanilla sex isn’t easing your tension then? You need the pain?”

“The pain and the submission!”

Now John smirked, “And a rimming session wouldn’t do it?”

Sherlock swallowed and closed his eyes, “Not that I’d say no to that, but I’m afraid it’s not enough.”

“Very well then. Undress and lie on the bed. But Sherlock... I’ve been thinking. Should we invite Mycroft?” 

Sherlock wanted to know, “Any specific reason?”

“Yeah… I need a favour from him. Something a bit secret and something that has to do with our upcoming wedding. Is that allright?”

Sherlock smiled, “I’m not the one who has a problem with Mycroft watching!”

John laughed, ”No, I suppose not. You have never been normal, you two!” 

And he went to call Mycroft and to tell him that he was invited if he could be there in an hour and a half.

That left time enough to do what Sherlock needed and had begged for; a thorough treatment with the implement that Sherlock liked the best - the riding crop. And something else too.

Sherlock lay on his back on the bed, with his hands and legs in the restraints so John could abuse Sherlock’s nipples. Sucking, licking and biting and tugging until they were red and peaking, John had smiled a bit dangerously before clamping the nipple-clamps on them and turning the screws tightly. So tight that Sherlock had bucked and moaned obscenely, but hadn’t been able to orgasm because of the straps wrapped around the base of his cock and balls.

John removed the straps restraining Sherlock, as well as those around his genitals. As soon as Sherlock had relaxed a bit, John ordered him to turn over, and John had given him fifteen strokes with the crop, ordering Sherlock to count each one. Sherlock wound his hands back into the restraints anchoring him to the bed. The cropping left red stripes but not welts. Sherlock had moaned and squirmed and enjoyed the treatment immensely, well on his descending totally into subspace. At hit number fifteen, Sherlock had mewed and ejaculated. It had almost made John come too, and he had knelt down on the bed beside Sherlock and only needed a few tugs before he had come too. 

John turned the drowsy detective around, removed the clamps and kissed Sherlock, who’d moved his hands out of the restraints and hugged John, and kissing him fiercely, and was able to say, “Thank you. Just what I needed.” Sherlock stayed a bit longer in bed while John prepared enemas for both of them. They would have time enough before Mycroft turned up. Sherlock had not wanted any pain relief or after-care yet. He said that he enjoyed the pain too much… At least for a while.

So when Mycroft came up the stairs both John and Sherlock were in the living room, waiting for him, dressed in their pyjama bottoms and dressing gowns.

John knew of Mycroft’s voyeurism. But what about Andrea? How would she feel about Mycroft visiting Sherlock and John? How had she felt last time? And they had other questions for Mycroft too. Questions they should have asked before.

Mycroft sat down on the couch, and Sherlock and John were sitting in their chairs.

It was John who started the conversation, “Mycroft… When Sherlock and I started this, we promised each other that we would talk openly about our desires and needs. No more “not acknowledging the elephant in the room”. And it should apply to you too, if you want to be a part of this, is that clear?”

Mycroft seemed humbled by their openness and acceptance, not the pompous man he sometimes appeared to be.

He just, meekly, said, “Yes… I understand.”

“So what does your wife think about you coming here… With the obvious purpose of something sexual happening?” was John’s first question.

“Well… She knows of course of my… Hmm… habits. I’ve never hidden them from her. And she knows I am bisexual… And my other inclinations too.” Mycroft swallowed and continued, “This is not easy for me… It is rather private!”

Both Sherlock and John laughed kindly, Sherlock adding “You are talking about privacy, brother dear… After you have watched what John and I do with each other. I don’t really think you don’t have the right to keep anything regarding your sex life secret?”

Mycroft had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, “Well.. Yes… Of course!”

And then he took a deep breath and continued, ”Andrea understands my needs, but it is only one aspect of my… inclination... That she accepts in our bedroom… Our house. She hasn’t any sadistic dispositions but puts a persona on, an act as a role-play… For my sake. If I need… something stronger or to live out my… other side… She accepts and actually sometimes encourages me to go to… Mmm... certain clubs...”

John had enough of Mycroft’s overly diplomatic approach, and he had to stop himself from shouting at Sherlock’s brother, but he kept his voice stern, but measured “Mycroft! Damnit! You aren’t talking to politicians and don’t have to weigh every damned word. Use the right words! Sadist… Masochist. It’s as if you’re ashamed! But it is not shameful to be a sado- masochist. As long as it is safe, sane and consensual! Sherlock and I have both accepted that you watch us… If we had a real problem with that we’d have destroyed every damned camera! Is that understood?”

Mycroft couldn’t help saying “Yes, Sir!” And then he just looked at John.

Sherlock smirked, “Well… It works on you too. Interesting!”

John smiled his dangerous smile and went over to the couch, “Well, Mycroft. That was a surprise! You’ve always tried to intimidate me. Who’d have guessed that you had this other side to you too?”

Mycroft closed his eyes, “It is only something I… Indulge in… if I feel safe.”

He opened his eyes and looking at John, Mycroft added, “I admit that I like Captain Watson too. He makes me want to submit.”

John’s smile grew even wider, “Well, that can be arranged!”

Turned to Sherlock, John asked “Love, show Mycroft your back. I think he was busy getting over here and didn’t watch what we were doing before.”

Sherlock rose, elegantly as ever. If he was in pain from the riding crop and his abused nipples, it didn’t show on his face or in his bearing. He turned his back to Mycroft, reached down and loosened his pyjama bottoms, letting them fall to the floor before he opened his dressing gown and letting it fall too.

Mycroft gasped at the sight and his hand went involuntarily to his crotch, “Oh my God!” He had seen what John did to Sherlock and vice versa on the cameras, but to see it in reality was so different.

John went behind Sherlock and picked up the dressing gown and helped Sherlock get the pyjamas bottoms back on, and the dressing gown too. He gently touched Sherlock’s back and kissed his neck before turning towards Mycroft,” If that’s what you need, I’ll be happy to deliver the blows!”, he said.

And then John remembered and realised something and continued,” Or do you want it from your brother?” John was remembering almost a year ago, how Mycroft had reacted as Sherlock, high as a kite, had manhandled Mycroft against the kitchen wall, almost breaking his arm. Mycroft had been in distress and in pain, but he had licked his lips and had shown signs of arousal too.

Sherlock observed his brother, suddenly realising that John had seen something that Sherlock had missed, “Yes of course. You are, as usual enlightening, John!” And then he turned his intense gaze at his brother, “How long?” 

At least Mycroft had the decency not to pretend that he didn’t know what Sherlock was talking about, “Since you were sixteen... That year I hadn’t visited you for about eight months because of my PhD studies. Only Father and Mummy had visited me at Oxford. When I finally came home… Oh my God. You looked so happy to see me and... I had left a child and came home to a young man! You were breathtaking!”

Mycroft closed his eyes and continued, “I had sexual encounters at the university... I knew what I liked. That I was into men and women and when I saw you I could only think about how it would be to kiss that beautiful mouth of yours. To reach under your shirt and feel your nipples, feel them peak under my hands, to touch your cock and feel how it would stiffen under my hand...”

Mycroft bent forward and hid his face in his hands, “And it is so wrong on so many levels! I’m your brother, for God's sake!”

Sherlock looked at John who gave him a tiny nod. Yes it would be all right. If this finally could repair the broken relationship between the two brothers, John wouldn’t mind. In fact he would encourage it…

John thought that the sight of the two Holmes brothers together would be quite arousing. He shook his head, “We are all as mad as hatters” he thought.

“And that would only be a problem if one of you got pregnant” said John.

Mycroft’s eyes snapped up. His eyes, almost as piercing as Sherlock’s, looked straight into John’s, and Mycroft continued a bit more hesitating, “I’m seven years his senior and until lately I had control over his finances… And when it comes to you two… I have so much more power… and… and… I’m married and you are going to be!” His head was in his hands again.

Sherlock moved to sit beside Mycroft on the couch. He leant against him and gently removed one of Mycroft’s hands away from Mycroft’s face and held it, lifted it to his mouth and kissed it, “I thought I had done something terribly wrong and that you hated me!” Sherlock said, and continued, “I thought that was why you rejected me and kept your distance! As long as you stayed... Until you left again, that Christmas, I would be lying awake and thinking about what I had done or said for you push me away like that!”

He reached out for Mycroft’s face and forced Mycroft to look at him, “I thought you found me repulsive. My paleness, my too prominent cheekbones, my a bit too feminine mouth. My odd eyes and my much too thin body. I was a lollipop then… All head and a beanpole body!”

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, “And your reaction to my behaviour was to lash out and become so acerbic against me....”

“I thought you hated me… And attack is the best defence...”

“Oh for God’s sake,” interrupted John, “Kiss each other, dammit!”

They both turned to John, the brothers sharing the same expression on their faces and John laughed, but there was sternness behind his expression, “It’s an order!”

And he watched, fascinated as they finally admitted their feelings for each other. John found it beautiful.  
_____________________  
Sherlock and Mycroft talked and talked for almost three hours. Mycroft had phoned home to tell his staff and security that he was delayed. Andrea was out of town, visiting her aunt in Cornwall.

John had ordered take away and Mycroft had to admit that it didn’t taste too bad, and the three men forgot all about sex, rimming and riding crops, they just talked.  
After the two brothers admitted their fondness, their love and their mutual attraction, they were both amazed that John just accepted it.

“It’s worth it just to get rid of your petty bickering, let alone anything else”, John commented.

Finally Mycroft fully understood how it had been for a young Sherlock to cope with his bigger brother being better at everything, not just because of the seven year age gap. Mycroft had been better at the things more appreciated in the Holmes’ house; better at behaving himself, entertaining himself, at learning languages, interacting with others. No matter how hard Sherlock tried, Mycroft had always been better. Despite that, it had been Mycroft who had taught Sherlock everything that Sherlock had found important and then Mycroft had made that irreparable mistake of leaving home at the age of fourteen and a half to attend boarding school. Away for the first time after having been home-tutored until then. Public schools had been tried, both for Mycroft and Sherlock, but it had turned out to be a terrible mistake. 

Mycroft finally understood how Sherlock had felt misunderstood and abandoned and why Sherlock had made such an effort to build an armour against the world. An armour that only John had managed to get through… And then John had left Sherlock too. For a wife who later shot Sherlock. And Sherlock had found himself unworthy of anything nice and loving and good… And the worst part was that Sherlock just accepted that. Sherlock had genuinely believed that he didn’t deserve happiness and love. That he was repulsive… Even to his own brother.  
_________________  
Finally later that evening, after yet another enema, and quite a lot of sex, including some more rimming, all three ended up in bed, cuddled under the duvet. Mycroft now with matching red stripes, courtesy of Sherlock’s skilful delivery of blows from a riding crop. It was Mycroft’s favourite implement next to the paddle. Mycroft had felt it was cathartic to allow Sherlock to get rid of his residual anger, and at the same time to take care of Mycroft’s needs. If John hadn’t called him earlier, Mycroft would have gone to one of his clubs.

Sherlock was in the middle of the bed with Mycroft and John on each side. Sherlock was drowsy and almost asleep, Mycroft and John were still awake.

John looked lovingly at the sleepy Sherlock, “It took us such a long time to get here. And I’ve been such an idiot. Having a gem like that in my hand, and then just throwing it away.” , he said gently carting his hands through Sherlock’s hair, “I’ve let him down so many times… And he still thinks I’m perfect for him. I don’t deserve him, Mycroft. I’m well aware of that..”

“Neither do I, John. But your presence has made him into that good man I knew he could be... Not a brilliant man or a great man, but a genuinely good man.”

John squinted at Mycroft, and frowning, he replied, “Do not belittle your brother… Or his character. He is a genuinely good person, was that even before me. He just hid behind his armour. I don’t think that anyone understood, or for that matter still understands Sherlock truly. Not even me. But I’m afraid that your rejection of him back then, damaged him more than you realise. Remember you two are meant to face the world together. Not many people are like you two. And despite your parents being smart and caring, they didn’t really understand Sherlock’s complicated mind and thought he was a copy of you. And then you left him. He must have been devastated...”

“He was… And he refused to talk to me the first time I came home on school holidays. Something was broken… And I didn’t make it better by keeping a distance when we were older because I didn’t want to acknowledge my feelings for him. I still find them rather troublesome… It’s truly remarkable that you can accept that Sherlock and I are having sex... But I have always underestimated you.”  
________________________  
It was not the last time Mycroft visited. But it wasn’t that frequent either. It happened once every other month or so, depending on international crises and London’s criminal population.

John had thought it would be a bit awkward the first time he was going to see Andrea after they had invited Mycroft to their flat for more than a cup of tea. But it wasn’t, and John just accepted that he was just as mad as the rest of the Holmes family. He would fit in perfectly after he and Sherlock got married.


	18. Message

It is not that I have forgotten you, dear readers. And it is actually finished. But still need to be beta'ed. So please be patient. It will be continued.


	19. More secrets and a wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Not beta'ed or britt-picked, so all the failures are mine)

Sherlock could hear that John was tired the way his steps sounded as he came up the 17 steps to their flat.

  
As John entered the living room Sherlock just looked up from his bundle of papers and asked, “Tea?”

  
John sighed, “Yeah in a minute, Love. I’m knackered.” and slumped down in his char and rested his head against the backrest, looking up at the ceiling before he closed his eyes...only for a few seconds.

  
He woke by a gentle kiss at his forehead and Sherlock’s words, “Here, John...and dinner will be ready in about 10 minutes.”

  
John could smell something delicious and the mug with tea looked and smelled like something from heaven.

  
“Oh God, Sherlock...just what I needed. Ta....and here I thought you wanted me to make tea.”

  
John took a large mouthful and the tea was perfect. John smiled at Sherlock, who had returned to the kitchen, “Who are you, gorgeous...and what have you done to my flatmate?!”, John asked.

  
Sherlock came back with a slight frown between his eyes, “What do you mean?”

  
“You made me tea...and have cooked dinner.”

  
Now Sherlock looked almost hurt, “I’ve done that before!”

  
And then John suddenly realised how those words could hurt Sherlock, “Oh I’m sorry, Love. It came out the wrong way. What I mean is that is usually you who ask _me_ to make tea. You say that you like my tea the best. I know you can make tea...and food. But normally it is...well sort of my job. I wasn’t trying to diminish your effort. And I think you have done plenty already...for me that is....and the least _I_ can do is to make tea and....well mostly order take away and sometimes cook...”

   
Now John was really stuttering and he rose and gave Sherlock a hug and Sherlock gave one back, still feeling a bit hurt.

  
“I..I...what I meant was that you do not have to do these things Sherlock. You have done so much already....enough for a lifetime!”

  
John moved a bit away from Sherlock, so he could see his face, “You gave up your job and almost your life to save me....You got tortured in Serbia.....you...you....”  
John closed his eyes and swallowed; “You accepted that I did beat you into a pulp...and abandoned you.“

  
He opened his eyes and lifted his hand to caress Sherlock’s face, “You even asked me for forgiveness for leaving me because you had to, in order to save my life....and you asked me on your knees. Oh God Sherlock, it was I who should have asked for forgiveness and on _my_ knees. You are the most caring, loving, generous, unselfish man I have ever known to walk on God’s Earth...and I’m sorry that I teased you...because it came out the wrong way. I’m sorry....”

  
Sherlock hugged him hard again and then kissed him, “You are forgiven...I love you John. And I would do everything all over again...if it would be necessary to keep you safe. You must understand that there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe”, he said with his deep voice and they stood like that for a while.

  
Then Sherlock ended the embrace and said with a smirk,” I’m afraid that the pasta is a bit on the too soft side now, John.”

  
John laughed, “I don’t care.....I could eat a boiled dishcloth by now. I’m starving!”  
________________________

After they had eaten Sherlock’s delicious ‘pasta carbonara’...and the pasta only a bit too soft, they cuddled on the couch as they had done so many times since they admitted their feelings for each other.

  
Sherlock was against the armrest and John was lying between Sherlock’s legs resting against Sherlock’s body.

  
John turned his body a bit so he could see Sherlock’s face and took a deep breath, “There is something I have to say to you before our marriage. And just like I previously had to promise you to listen without running away, I’ll ask of you not to either. Not in person and not into your mind-palace! OK?”

  
“OK, John.”

  
John turned back again and looked out in the living room and took Sherlock’s bigger hands in his own sturdier ones, “You have asked me why I wanted to keep that job at the clinic, when it is obvious that it sometimes is too bloody much. But there is a good reason...and it has nothing to do with “getting away” from you...it’s just...”

  
John turned again around and looked into Sherlock’s wonderful eyes and continued looking even it was a bit awkward lying that way and he lifted his left hand up and caressed Sherlock’s face. Then he turned a bit more and they were now facing each other. John partly squeezed between Sherlock’s body and the couch’s backrest, “I need to see your face, Love!”

  
And then John continued, “More than a year ago I had the perfect wedding. Everything was perfect, despite one big thing: I married the wrong person!”

  
John had seen the flash of uncertainty in Sherlock’s expression, but it had vanished just as quickly as John had continued, “It should have been you. You gave the best first man’s speech ever...the weather was perfect....what the hell...you, my amazing friend, even managed to solve a bloody murder mystery during that speech. And now you listen carefully, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. That wedding is still here in my mind...my memories are still there...of that traitorous, good-for-nothing-excuse-of-a-human-being that I married. And some of those memories give me nightmares!”

  
John took a deep breath, “It is not often that I dream of Afghanistan anymore. My nightmares are about you.....of you being shot during the first man speech, by Mary. You being shot while you play that wonderful waltz for...well mostly me, I guess. Those memories of my wedding, well bloody hell, it wasn’t even legal, that woman being somebody else entirely.”

  
John kissed Sherlock and continued, “I want to overwrite that wedding. But...Oh my God...never in a yellow room again. That particular colour makes me want to vomit! I want to have a perfect one, this time with you. I don’t want our wedding to be a ‘second class’-wedding, just going to the town hall as we planned. I want it to be better, bigger, more extravagant.....because it is going to be my last and only wedding...with you.”

  
“I see.” said Sherlock and gave John a hug. Sherlock had had a suspicion about the change in John’s nightmares. His screams of “Oh God, Sherlock, please don’t die!” did indicate a change.

  
“That is why I have kept that job. I know that the money on our mutual account is mine as well...and that you could transfer from your account if it should be necessary.”

  
“It’ll soon be yours too!” mumbled Sherlock into John’s hair.

  
And that made John stop for a second, “Oh...I didn’t realize that.”

  
Now Sherlock smirked, “And here I thought that you married me for the money!”

  
“You...git....well of course I do. You are so ugly and so stupid. Of course the money is the only reason. Idiot!”

  
And they smiled and kissed again.

  
John continued, “Well...That I want such an ‘extravaganca’, well, I didn’t feel that it would be fair, without me paying the biggest part of it. And it is not that I want to be a “bridezilla” using all our money and loose the sight of the fact that it is not the wedding that is important, but our life afterwards. I know we had planned a visit to the town hall and have a small dinner for the closest friends and family. But ...this my final marriage.....it should be better, bigger and finer that the previously. Can you understand why Sherlock? Is it OK? Would you allow me to show how much I cherish and love you?”

  
And Sherlock understood, “Of course.”

  
And then he realised, “That was why you wanted Mycroft’s help.”

  
They kissed again..and well... kissed some more, and ended up in the bedroom, despite John’s claim of being totally knackered before.  
___________________

Sherlock had accepted that John wanted to keep a few secrets regarding their wedding and was actually thrilled when it turned out where the wedding should be: the Orangery at Kew Gardens.Thanks to Mycroft, no doubt. Who else would have been able to get the place at such short notice, less than 4 months?

  
And about the clothes they should wear. Well, John had told Sherlock that he had specific plans and that he didn’t have to worry.

  
Sherlock had a few secrets of his own too. And both men found it all right. The small secrets...and those not so small, just made it a bit more exciting.

  
Sherlock’s secrets had to do with the music. And Mycroft was involved in that. Mycroft had worried a bit that his secret help to John might stain his new-found better relationship to his brother, but Sherlock assured him that it was OK, but only if he helped Sherlock keep some secrets from John too. The last part said with a smirk....and of course Mycroft promised that.

  
So one month before their wedding, Sherlock turned up at Baker Street after having done Lestrade a favour with a case not ranging higher than a 4 and therefore not needing John to attend, to find the door to their bedroom closed and John sitting in his chair with a smirk on his face.

  
“What? Why are you looking so smug?” demanded Sherlock to know as he hung up is coat and scarf.

  
“Come, Love. I have something to show you” said John as he rose and met Sherlock with a kiss before he took him by the hand and led him towards their bedroom.

  
Before he opened the door, he looked at Sherlock and explained, “This is the secret. The reason why I wanted to make so much extra money. The Orangery will go on Mycroft’s account. He said it was his small ‘thank you’ for....to use his words... ‘exquisite favours’.....but this is paid by me. You might find it ridiculous, but please Sherlock...humour me in this. Promise....please!”

  
“As long as it is not two white bridal gowns or some ridiculous costume, I’ll promise” rumbled Sherlock.

  
John opened the door and Sherlock lost his breath.

  
There on the bed were two perfect attires for Scottish gentlemen: two kilts. One in the Holmes tartan and one in the Watson tartan, cream coloured hoses, two prince Charlie jackets in very rich velvet in a dark blue, matching the colours of the kilts, matching vests, two matching sporrans, kilt-pins, flashes, wing-collar shirts and bowties...everything. Even 2 kilt-pins and 2 ‘sgian dubs’ and on the floor two pair of Chillie Brogue shoes.

  
Sherlock stood speechless....not knowing what to say. But he didn’t let go of John’s hand.

  
John looked at him a bit worried, “Do you like it, Love?”

  
Finally Sherlock came to his senses, “Oh dear Lord. Of course I do...it is utterly brilliant and wonderful. John...you are a genius!” and he hugged John fiercely and kissed him.  
_______________________

Later after Sherlock had examined every item thoroughly, he wanted to know how John had found out about his measurements and interrupted himself, “Mycroft...and my tailor... of course!”

  
John told about his father’s uncle, who indeed had been a Scottish Watson, so John was totally entitled to wear the Watson tartan.

  
“I’ve even got an old kilt somewhere. I inherited it after said uncle as a child. I think it is in an old suitcase in the attic, here at Baker Street. I never bothered to take it with me as I moved out after you...you know. I had almost forgot it and it is probably been eaten by moths by now. I went to Mycroft to ask if you, being aristocracy, had any connection to the Holmes-Clan of Scotland. And it turned out that you have. Actually on your mother’s side and on your father’s side too.”

  
John laughed a bit, “As your brother investigated further, he found out that I actually own a small piece of land at the back of beyond in Scotland. Nobody bothered to tell my father...and he would probably have sold it anyway to buy his booze.”

  
John looked a bit sad. He didn’t have so many fond memories of his alcoholic father.

  
Sherlock smiled as he had examined every piece on the bed, “The myth is true then?” he asked.

  
John frowned, “Which myth?”

  
Now Sherlock was giggling a bit as he pointed at the items on the bed, “That the only thing men wear under a kilt is 'Scotland’s future'. That they ‘go commando’ under it...not that I would mind.”

  
John smiled back knowing exactly what Sherlock was thinking of, “Sorry Love. It is...almost.....a myth. Soldiers sometimes ‘go commando” and it is valid for those soldiers in kilt as well. But normally you would wear pants under the kilt.”

  
Now Sherlock’s eyes were sparkling, “And you being a military man....what would you wear under the kilt?”

  
John laughed, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Love. I’ll have to wear pants.The thought of you without pants and in a kilt.....and what I would be able to see if I lifted it and do to you, well that would make me leak as a faucet...and we can’t have that. So I’ve bought the finest quality boxer briefs for both of us.” And he pointed at a bag that was standing beside the bed.

  
And he continued, “And since I am afraid that the sporran would not be able to hide our reactions...”

  
“Did you say ‘erections’ John?” asked Sherlock with a smile.

  
“No your git...our reactions..”

  
“Pota-to..po-tato” said Sherlock.

  
“I’ve bought something extra.” , continued John unaffected and brought forward a small box.

  
Sherlock frowned, “We have bought rings...so why..?”

  
Now John had an almost devilish grin on his face: “Oh.. they are rings all right. But not for our fingers!”

  
“Oh” was Sherlock’s answer as he understood...cock-rings. “You are utterly brilliant John. Of course. It could turn rather embarrassing otherwise.”

  
And then he suddenly had an expression of horror on his face, “Oh God. Mycroft is allowed to wear the tartan himself. Please tell me John, that he doesn’t plan on wearing a kilt as well....he hasn’t got the legs for it! It would bring the expression ‘thin hairy legs’ to new heights...or depths.”

  
John chuckled, “They are not so bad...Mycroft’s legs. Not everybody can sport a body like a damned fucking marble statue, Sherlock.”

  
“You can...despite the colour.”, said Sherlock and kissed John again.

______________________

  
About a week later when John came home from the clinic on his last day as a regular, Sherlock was sitting in the living room and there was something hidden under a piece of cloth lying on the table.

  
There was a faint smell of camphor in the air.

  
“What is that?”, asked John and pointed at the heap.

  
Sherlock rose and went over to John with his usual feline grace and removed the cloth like a magician.

  
“This is...the heirloom of John Hamish Watson....his kilt!” and suddenly the smell of mothballs got stronger.

  
“You found it!” smiled John and lifted the kilt. He had feared that moths would have eaten it totally, but there were only a few tiny holes.

  
Sherlock stood very close, “I have found it because I want to use it in a very improper way. Are you interested?”

  
And the only thing John could say as he had visions of Sherlock giving him blow-jobs under the kilt and of him giving Sherlock blow-jobs whilst Sherlock would be wearing it, even though the kilt would be a bit too long for John and a bit too short for Sherlock, was, “Oh God..yes!”

  
Just like he had said so often when it came to Sherlock’s requests.  
________________________

The wedding turned out to be perfect. The weather couldn’t have been better and everything went according to the plans. This time it was Mycroft who delivered the first man’s speech, and to both men....and he surprised everyone.

His speech was filled with warmth and love for his brother and his brother-in-law as well. He had used his access to various sources regarding John to find some of the more secret actions John had been a part in in Afghanistan.

But he told of course only about the un-classified ones and told a lot about John’s bravery.

He only revealed nice and sweet and only a bit embarrassing episodes from Sherlock’s childhood and mostly those where Mycroft himself had been a bit of a clown. And he told about the episode where Sherlock had taken the blame and the punishment...only 6 years old...because he had thought that Mycroft was the one, who had smashed the antique vase. Well the description of Sherlock’s bravery brought tears forward in nearly every one’s eyes.

  
Mycroft apologized for leaving for boarding school and for keeping a distance later. He took the full blame, but of course didn’t mention the exact reason for the distance. That remained a secret between Mycroft, his wife, Sherlock and John.  
_________________

Later both Sherlock and John agreed that this had indeed been a good first man’s speech, but not as good as Sherlock’s, since there hadn’t been a murder-solving involved in it!

  
Harry had turned up this time, sober, and with Clara by her side and Sholto had refused this time. His health had turned worse and he had been operated on recently. Sherlock didn’t mind that that particular guest couldn’t come. He was still a bit jealous...and it was totally uncalled for, he knew that by now. But it was the last remnant of Mary and her acerbic remarks at her and John’s wedding. And he could easily live without being remembered of that.

  
Sherlock had made his own speech for John. He had found and old poem and read it out loud:

  
_“Dearest John. Beloved husband....There is an old poem about marriage:_

_“Married in white, you will have chosen all right._   
_Married in grey, you will go far away._   
_Married in black, you will wish yourself back._   
_Married in red, you’ll wish yourself dead._   
_Married in blue, you will always be true._   
_Married in pearl, you’ll live in a whirl._   
_Married in green, ashamed to be seen,_   
_Married in yellow, ashamed of the fellow._   
_Married in brown, you’ll live out of town._   
_Married in pink, your spirits will sink."_

_Well John. If all that was true then the green in our tartans would indicate that we’ll be ashamed. That is not the case. I will never be ashamed of showing my deep love and devotion for you. But the poem says that the blue will show that we’ll always be true, too. I feel in my heart that that is the truth. There are only you...and there have only been you for a long time and there will only be you in the future. I love you...and I’m so glad that I finally have the privilege of showing you for the rest of my life, how much I love and adore you!”_

Now John had his speech for Sherlock as well:

  
_“I’ve not found and old poem. But I’ve found my own words, inadequate as they are: Sherlock, The way I feel about you doesn't come with a set of restrictions. There are no rules that say if you do this or you don't do that, I won't care anymore or I’ll stop loving you._

_You have been hurt so many times before and sometimes you are still afraid that I might leave, if you do something wrong. There is nothing you can do that could make me leave. I love all of you..... I love you for the entirety of you. Not only your good qualities, but the not so nice ones too. And believe me. The good qualities outweigh the bad ones with a factor of a million. Not many can say about their partner that he had died for you, accepted exile and abandonment just to keep you safe. You once told me that you were not a hero. But that is exactly what you are and I’ll try for the rest of my life to make it up to you, what you have done for me._

_It still amazes me that you think you have got the best bargain here, when it is I, who has won the biggest price in the lottery of love!”_

____________________

Sherlock’s surprise for John was of course a new piece of music, a waltz, composed and played by Sherlock, but the even bigger surprise was that André Rieu, the Dutch famous violin-player, came in through the door in the orangery, went up to Sherlock while Sherlock was playing the last part of the waltz and began to play together with Sherlock.... but only a few paces.

Then he nodded at Sherlock and Sherlock put down his violin and went down to John and reached out his hand. They waltzed together in perfect harmony to Sherlock’s waltz and made it their ‘first dance’, as André Rieu started the waltz all over again from the beginning.

  
Later people agreed that even if André Rieu had played Sherlock’s piece virtuously, Sherlock’s version had been the best. Every note, every movement of the bow had been a declaration of love for John.  
_____________________

In the cab on their way to the hotel where they would spend their 1st night as a married couple, John smiled devilishly and showed Sherlock what was put in his sporran: his pair of pants and Sherlock moaned and reached in between the layers of John’s kilt to find his newly waxed balls and a bit surprisingly an almost flaccid cock.

  
“I didn’t dare remove the cock-ring” whispered John into Sherlock’s right ear whilst biting gently at the earlobe, “I haven’t worn the pants since the dinner! But I’ve but in a butt-plug!”

  
And Sherlock almost shuddered as he imagined how he could have reached under John’s kilt the whole evening and touched him. He moaned even more as he imagined how he could have knelt behind John, could have moved his head up under the kilt, how he could have spread those muscular buttocks aside, removed that plug and fucked John with his tongue.

  
He had to take a few deep breaths to prevent himself from coming there in the cab and then he smiled back and showed what was in his sporran too, “I haven’t worn my pants either!” he said with his deepest voice...the voice John used to describe as “a cello covered in dark chocolate.”

  
Now it was John’s turn to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths, “One day we’ll have to find out, if you can make me come with your voice alone. You know what it does to me!”  
____________________

In the hotel room John was ordered to stand against the wall.

  
“I do not care what happens” had Sherlock said, “Dry-cleaners have to earn money after all.”

  
And then he had removed his own cock-ring and then John’s cock-ring and had kissed John’s arse hole and then he had fingered John’s hole more open. First with one finger, then two and finally three and then pushed his cock in in one long sliding movement. John had been so ready that he hardly could wait. And that was why they both came after only a few trusts.  
Then they had undressed and had put neatly aside their entire outfit. Only John’s kilt would require a dry-cleaning.

  
They fell asleep with Sherlock almost draped over John. The best way to sleep ever!  
_______________

John woke as the first. He slipped out of the bed and went over to his bags. Time for the morning-gift!

  
It was just a silly thing, but he was sure Sherlock would appreciate it.

  
He put the gift on the duvet and kissed Sherlock, “Morning, _husband_ , I’ve got something for you!”

  
And Sherlock turned around, still a bit drowsy, “Oh, a good morning to you too, _husband_. And just give me a few seconds. I’ve got something for you too!”

  
And he smiled and reached out for John and they kissed despite John’s protest, “I’ve got morning breath!”

  
And Sherlock’s answer, “As if I would care! I kissed your arse last night.”

  
John’s present for Sherlock were.... four kilts. Two in the Watson-tartan and two in the Holmes-tartan. Two for each of them.

  
“Mr. William Sherlock Scott Watson-Holmes. I couldn’t decide which tartan it should be. So I bought two of each. I found them on e-bay. You’ve got quite a kink there, Love. And me too. Sex in kilts. And these ones go in the washing-machine.”

  
“Brilliant!” was the answer, and Sherlock continued in the deep voice that he knew would force blood to John’s cock immediately, “You should never be allowed to wear anything else...at least in our flat. Oh... the accessibility!”

  
And they kissed again.

  
“I’ve got something for you too,” said Sherlock and fetched a rather big gift in one of his own bags.

  
When John opened the gift there was a big box inside filled with eatable body-paint and lubricants with taste.

  
“Talking about kinks”, smirked Sherlock, “you sometimes say that I’m eatable and you are particular fond of certain parts of my anatomy: my hands, my toes...my toes of everything! My nipples, my neck...so I thought this gift to be for both of us.”

  
“I’ve tested every single one of them. On my hands, that is”, continued Sherlock with a small tinge of red on his cheeks, “I tried to buy them on the net. They are organic and from a very special and small shop in Soho. But as I called to ask why the items could not be bought on the net, but only in the real shop, I was told why, and had to turn up in person. It was a bit embarrassing.“

  
John was giggling, “Have you been standing there in that shop and tasted and licked everything to find the best ones in front of the shop-keeper?”

  
Sherlock still looked a bit embarrassed, “Yes...she told me it was necessary and she actually wanted you to come down there too. Something about “personal smell working against or with the fragrances”. But I told her it was a gift and she accepted that.”

  
“Oh, I bet that the scientist in you liked the challenge and that you even provided the lady with a few improvements!”

  
“I...I..might have come with a few suggestions and ....Oh” continued Sherlock and produced another parcel, “She mentioned that this would be necessary too.”

  
And he unwrapped a coated sheet. “She said that we would make too much dirty bed-linen if we didn’t use this coated sheet. I’ve bought 3.” And now Sherlock was actually blushing.

  
John grappled Sherlock and kissed him fiercely, “You utterly amazing and brilliant and caring man. I love you. What a wonderful gift!”

  
“I love yours too” was the answer.  
___________________

When they returned to their flat the next day, there was an extra gift from Mycroft waiting for them: a luxury riding-crop and new collars for both of them.

  
John had looked sternly at Sherlock and had said, “I’m OK with the riding crop and the kilts together. But all that eatable stuff, well it comes no-way near you if I am going to use that crop on you. Is that understood? We do not know the effect on stripes and welts.”

  
They agreed on some role-play. Something they hadn’t done often. But the ‘very naughty Scottish school-boy and his very stern Scottish teacher’ made so nice use of both the crop and the kilts.  
_____________________

John and Sherlock discovered two things about their gifts for each other: it was nice that those kilts could just be washed in a washing-machine and that it indeed was very handy that Sherlock hat bought 3 of those coated sheets. That eatable body-paint made quite a mess.  
_________________

That they now were married didn’t mean that everything now was ‘all butterflies, rainbows and unicorns’ as Sherlock would mockingly call it. They would have their disagreements, banters and rows. But their promise of always to acknowledge ‘the elephant in the room’ did help a lot and their promise of....well the promise was most of all Sherlock’s....never having big secrets for each other again, helped a lot too.

  
Small secrets were allowed like Christmas presents or birthday presents or surprise parties. But not big ones...life-threatening ones.

  
They never faced a threat like Moriarty again though. Just normal criminals....which didn’t mean that there were not life-threatening situations.

Falling in the Thames in the middle of the winter could have ended Sherlock....and nearly being stabbed in the back by a mentally ill man could have ended John too.

And one evening as Sherlock just had turned 50 and as they were running though the streets of London after a suspect, Sherlock suddenly stopped on his track. Turned towards John and said, “No...it is not worth it. We ought to retire!”

  
And so they did. Left London and bought a nice house in Sussex. They kept the flat at Baker Street though. It was nice to have a base in London when they wanted to see a piece on the theatres or look at different exhibitions. John had developed an interest for art and Sherlock just followed his lead.

 


	20. Retirement and an end..or

Sherlock had been amused over John’s remark that their mutual attraction and ability to react upon it would falter over the years to come and Sherlock’s remark to that: “You mean...only once a day when we grow old?” and John’s reply: “Yeah...you git. Or closer to the English norm: once a week or even less.” Well it turned out to be true.

  
Even though their love for each other and their wonder over having such a remarkably person loving them in return, didn’t diminish a bit, their bodies did grow old and lost the ability to react so much anymore.

  
Sherlock had pointed out, as they both had passed the 70 year mark, that the eldest father in the world was 96 and that would leave them at least 26 years with sexual activity yet.

This time he had deduced on insufficient data and near the end...close to John’s 96 years birthday, they had to do with holding hands and being close to one another. John had had to have a pacemaker. The damage that the thorough sepsis from the shot wound so many years back in Afghanistan had left in his heart made it necessary when he reached the age of 75 and Sherlock’s body was not free of the curses of old age either.

  
They hated when they had to be away from each other and neither of them slept well when the other person was not sleeping beside them. And during the sleep one part of their body would always touch the other person: a hand on the other one’s chest, curled around each other as the big spoon and small spoon or just the hands touching.  
____________________

That was why Sherlock one morning, the 18th of August, woke up to find that his hand on John’s chest didn’t feel any heartbeats anymore. John had died peacefully in his sleep at the age of 96.

  
Sherlock had kissed John’s forehead gently and had whispered, “You wait for me on the other side, do you hear me!”

  
And then Sherlock got out of bed, put on a dressing gown in his favourite blue colour and went downstairs in their house in Sussex to make a call.

  
His nephew, Sherrinford Holmes, who only ‘occupied a minor position in the English government’ just like his father had done, was on the screen immediately.

  
He just had one look at Sherlock and just asked, “When?”

  
He was...if possible...even better than both his father and uncle to deduce and read people.

  
His father had said, long before he passed away at the age of 97, that Sherrinford apparently had inherited the best sides from himself and from Sherlock and that without the flaws. Sherlock couldn’t have agreed more, even if it still tormented him a bit to accept a statement from Mycroft without protesting.

  
“During the night...in his sleep.” was Sherlock’s answer, “You can close the file named “John Hamish Watson-Holmes” now.

  
“Do you need any help?” and then a short pause before Sherrinford continued, “Don’t do anything stupid.” At that moment he sounded so much like his father, that Sherlock got a lump in his throat.

  
Sherlock smiled, “You are right. To follow John before everything is settled and accounted for...yes that would indeed be very stupid. But you know my plans...and I’m going to follow them through.”

  
“I suppose there is nothing more to say right now, besides that I’m terribly sorry for your loss. You do give a call...before...”

  
“Yes...of course.”  
_______________________

Around midday October the 18th:

  
Sherlock was sitting in his living room in the cottage in Sussex. He looked at the old box with the old fashioned syringe in. And at the clear liquid in the syringe.

  
“Well ‘old friend’" he said, "because that is what you are now. Not an enemy...nor a temptation and here I am ...an old bugger talking to an inanimate thing. Get a grip on it, Sherlock!”

  
He took a deep breath and looked around. Everything had been taken care of. Everything had been cleared and sorted out. The hives had been told that John had died. A new keeper had been found and the hives would be moved to their new place during their winter hiatus. Sherlock had even ‘told’ the bees that he would be gone soon.

  
Sherlock smiled as he remembered how John had been furious when he had found out so many years ago that someone else had taken the credit for Sherlock’s many years of work to save the European brown bee.  
__________________________

_“That arsehole!,” had John fumed, “taking the credit for your work! You worked together on this, dammit. And you even started it. He wouldn’t have been able to write a single word about it, hadn’t it been for you. And there...!” John almost banged his hand on the screen, “He didn’t mention you with one word apart from ‘a minor work based on the observations from a retired English resident of a small village in the southern England’....How does he dare!!!”_

  
_“Take it easy”, had Sherlock said, “I know that his doctor-thesis is almost our words...page for page. But let him have the fame. The Bee-keeper-association knows the truth....and I do not need to be more famous. Do you really want people to run around here in our village and gape through our windows, stump through our flower beds and all in all be obnoxious?”_

  
_And John had cooled down and had looked at Sherlock, “You did this on purpose?”_

  
_“Yeah...no need to be more famous. The results are important. Not the fame!”_

  
_“He is going to be rich!”_

  
_Sherlock had looked at John, “Honestly, John. Do we need more money? Do we need another house...a bigger one? A bigger garden? Do we need to drink more than one bottle of excellent red wine every day? A new car?”_

  
_Sherlock had made a gesture around in their cosy living room and then he rose and went over to John, who sat on the couch, “I’ve got everything I need and everything I want right here...in our house and in your presence. I’m incredible rich as it is all ready! And what I would want the most in this entire world...well it can’t be bought for money anyway!” and then he bowed his body so much that he could kiss John._

  
_John felt a bit ashamed and as they had finished kissing and was sitting on the couch holding hands, he said, “You are right, Love. We’ve got everything we need...apart from....what would you want, that money can’t buy?”_

  
_Sherlock had smiled, “Years! Years together. That I can be sure that we will never part again. Youth.... to be young again. Not to make the same mistakes all over again, but avoid them this time. Meet before...and be honest before. And that is just a silly thought.....and not to be bought for money anyway!”_

  
_John had smiled, “Yes a silly, but very sweet thought. Let’s just hope that we’ll have a lot of time together. At least we are only in the beginning of our 60ties. To be honest I would never had imagined myself to be that old...being a soldier.”_

  
_Sherlock had closed his eyes and had leant even more into John and had lifted their hands and kissed Johns, “I would never have thought to live longer than my 25th birthday. I saw no reason to continue. Not even after Mycroft forced me into a rehabilitation centre. First when I met you, I found a reason to live.....and then I had to leave you, before I could tell you how I felt.”_

  
_“And after that we couldn’t see each other for elephants crowding the room!”_

  
_Sherlock smiled, “There were so many elephants in 221B Baker Street that it was a miracle that the floor didn’t break.”_

  
_And they had both giggled._  
________________ 

Sherlock was sitting in the living room of the cottage in Sussex. Only dressed in a pair of black bespoke trousers and a white shirt. He was an old man and dressed in an old-fashioned way.

  
Sherlock looked at the two letters on the table. One for Sherrinford, who was in the village already. Sherlock had called him two days prior and told him that now was the time.

Sherlock wanted Sherrinford to be the one to find him. The other letter was just to tell that Sherlock had taken his own life...voluntarily. In case someone else than Sherrinford would arrive first.

  
Sherlock took the tourniquet out of the box and with movements his body hadn’t forgotten even after more than 50 years he put it around his left upper arm, making the veins more visible.

  
“Oh...I do hope there is an after-life and I’m not doomed forever because I end my own life”, Sherlock said out loud in the empty room.

  
He took the syringe and held the needle it against his arm and then he exhaled, lifted his chin and with an almost invisible nod...so much like the one John used, when he had to do something unpleasant, but still ‘soldiered on’, Sherlock pressed the piston and saw the liquid disappear into his vein. He felt the poison, a taste of metal and garlic in his mouth...and then...nothing.  
________________

Except that one of the walls of their living room had disappeared and was now a wall of golden light and in the middle of that was a very young John, in fatigues and a T-shirt...shining almost as golden as the light around him. He reached for Sherlock and smiled.

  
Sherlock smiled back, “You waited!”

  
“You told me to”, said John.

  
And Sherlock couldn’t help being Sherlock, “You were dead when I asked.”

  
And John smiled even more, “Dead..yes. But still present. Come!”

  
And Sherlock got up from the chair and went over to John and took his hand, “Let me look at you...Oh my...you are so young!”

  
John smiled again and said, “So are you now.” And he turned Sherlock around so he could see the old white-haired man sitting in the chair with a smile on his face, “You just leave your body behind and then you are not old anymore!”

  
Sherlock looked at their intertwined hands......yes his hand was a young man’s hand too. Just like John’s. Sherlock’ brow furrowed in confusion when he looked at John again, “Weren’t you wearing fatigues and a T-shirt just a moment ago?” he asked.

  
“Yeah...I did. Waiting for you I imagined myself as a soldier again. But now you are here it seemed more suitable to look like I was, when we first met.” And John was in his clothes from when they had their first case: his chequered button down, his pair of jeans and his oatmeal-coloured woollen jumper.

  
“You are dressed like that too.”, he smiled and Sherlock looked down. He was wearing his clothes from then too. The black bespoke suit, the white shirt, the blue scarf...and his Belstaff.

  
Sherlock smiled and pointed at John’s jumper, “I thought the moths would have eaten that, decades ago!”

  
“Yeah...it disappeared somehow. But we know for sure what happened to your coat!”

  
Sherlock smiled, “It was either that or me lying on the bottom of the Thames. The decision was easy...even if I loved that coat and I remember what happened to your jumper. I took it with me when I...left. I used it as a pillow for two years, John...and when they finally caught me, they threw it away. It didn’t look much like a jumper then, though.”

  
John gave Sherlock’s hand a squeeze, “I’m glad you had it when you were away.” And the two young men looked at each other and smiled again.

  
“What are the rules?”, demanded Sherlock to know as they walked through the wall of golden sunlight and into a foreign landscape, that looked a bit like the landscape around their village in Southern England. The golden sunlight was all over the place.

  
John stopped for a moment, “The rules? Well, this is a limbo, an in-between. You stay here as long as you need, if you have some unfinished business...”

  
“The explanation of ghosts?” wanted Sherlock to know.

  
“Yeah...something like that.”

  
Sherlock thought for a moment and then he said, “No...everything is settled and accounted for. No unfinished businesses.”

  
“Well in that case...someone has been waiting for you, Sherlock.”

  
And at an agora....somehow looking like an old Roman place, with pillars of marble and tiles of marble too, some people were standing, looking towards John and Sherlock and they were greeted by them all: Molly, Gregory, Mycroft, Andrea and Mrs. Hudson.

  
Mycroft and Sherlock walked a bit away from the others and talked for quite a time and then they returned.

  
Mycroft spoke, “Sherlock wanted to know if we would wait for Sherrinford...but we are not going to wait anymore. Mummy and father didn’t wait for us either.. it is time to move on. We just waited for you, Sherlock...and you and John were so obstinate to be rather old men before you died!”

  
Sherlock smiled at his brother, “You did beat me there. I killed myself before I reached your age.”

  
Mycroft smiled back, “Yeah..I did beat you, didn’t I.”

  
John looked around: “If everybody is ready?” and they all held hands as the light around them grew stronger....  
_______________

In the cottage in Sussex Sherrinford locked himself into the house and found his uncle in the chair...smiling.

  
He removed the syringe, the tourniquet and the box. Arranged Sherlock’s body so it looked like Sherlock just had died in his sleep in the chair. Then he kissed the forehead of the old man and whispered, “Good bye...’the world’s only consulting detective’.”

  
And made the call for the doctor.  
____________________

On the churchyard in a small town in Sussex in Southern England there are two tombstones with this standing on them:  
  
‘John Hamish Watson-Holmes  
Beloved and missed husband  
7th of July 1974- 18th of August 2070'  
  


'William Sherlock Scott Watson-Holmes  
Beloved husband and the world’s only consulting detective  
6th of January 1976- 18th of October 2070’

 

The End


End file.
